XCOM: The Why Bother Files
by alimination602
Summary: A series of short stories based on the original 'Things XCOM Operatives Are No Longer Allowed to Do' list as well as a few other rules thrown in for good measure.
1. Operation Dead Man Shopping

Chapter 1: Operation Dead Man Shopping

"42-inch chest" Sergeant Cassandra York announced, removing the measuring tape from around the recruits' chest. York had joined the XCOM project from serving with the British Army in Afghanistan during the height of the campaign. A direct and uncompromising soldier to her enemies, her squad mates found her unwavering resolve even amidst a crisis served her well as the teams' medic in the field. This clash of battlefield tenacity and unabashed care she displayed to those under her command earned her a position as a sort of surrogate mother figure among the younger members of the team.

"42 in the chest" Corporal Wesley Lambert repeated as he typed the measurement into the tablet held lazily in the crook of his arm. Having earned his stripes in the Kenyan Army by the age of twenty-one Wesley was among the younger of the recruits brought into the combat arm of the XCOM project. The son of a Canadian journalist and a British schoolteacher his fair skin combined with his deep accent embodied a melting pot of cultures akin to his homeland.

York shifted the measuring tape to measure the recruit's height. "76 inches"

"You're kidding me?" Lambert could not help but protest.

York rechecked the measurement. "No, 76 on the dot"

"You realise that means it's going to have to be a custom order" Lambert replied as he continued entering figures into the tablet.

"Not necessarily" replied York, recoiling the measuring tape and walking over to inspect the readout on the tablet

"What do you mean 'Not necessarily'?" Lambert queried, adding the final entries with a flourish of his free hand.

"Can't we just, you know" York insinuated with a shift of her head. "I mean he's hardly going to feel it or anything"

"Well, that's not really the point is it" Lambert insisted. "It's a form of respect for those who served"

"Who says he'll be around long enough to do anything" York persisted. "Remember Jenkins?"

"You mean the one with the…?" Lambert asked.

"No, the other one" York replied. "The threshing machine"

"Oh yeah" replied Lambert, the memoires returning to the forefront of his mind. "But, really, what are the odds on that happening again?"

"Fine" York threw up her open palms in admittance of defeat. "I'll ask him"

Finally acknowledging their recruit, who until now had been patiently waiting as the discussion had gone on without him York retuned to face the young man.

"Tell me, what was your name again son?" York asked the recruit.

"Squaddie Adam Wyatt, ma'am" Wyatt was very much the spitting image of the all-American soldier. Early twenties, close cropped brown hair, light skin, toned physique beneath his standard issue olive drab fatigues.

"All set to fight some aliens?" York asked.

"It's what I trained for ma'am" Wyatt replied with the same enthusiasm York saw in every recruit she met; they soon grew out of it. "Just hand me a rifle and point me where you need me"

"Where are you from, Wyatt?" York asked.

"Traverse City, Michigan" Wyatt replied. "Just north of Chicago"

"Got any family back home?" York continued with her questioning.

"Parents and a little sister" Wyatt continued.

"And do you love the Earth?" York shifted the subject.

"Undoubtedly, it's our planet" Wyatt said.

"And you want us to have the best chance of protecting it?" York asked.

This question threw him for a moment. "Of course"

"And you understand that to do that, we all have to be prepared to make sacrifices?" York asked. This time Wyatt simply nodded in reply. "So, you get how a small amount of discomfort with it being a bit tight would do a great deal towards helping the XCOM project succeed?"

"Tight, ma'am?" Wyatt asked, confused.

"Only a few inches" York assured him. "You'll hardly notice"

"I guess so" Wyatt replied, the resolve in his voice faltering this time.

"Glad to hear it" York gave him a reassuring clap on the back. "You're goanna make your sister proud. And don't worry, we'll make all the adjustments. A little off the top and bottom and you'll fit right in" York took the tablet held out by Lambert. "Just sign here and we're all done.

Accepting the offered tablet Wyatt's eyes scanned up and down the page until they came to rest on- "Wait, does that say coffin?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _GENERAL ANNOUNCEMENT – ALL XCOM PERSONNEL_

 _Effective immediately, Sergeant York and Corporal Lambert are relinquished of any duties related to supply and outfitting of new recruits and will be reassigned to less 'people-orientated' positions._

 _XCOM Rule 134: Rookies are measured for armour during induction, not coffins. Stop telling them otherwise._

 _134a: 'We don't measure you for coffins because there usually isn't enough left to bury' is not a viable alternative either._


	2. Operation Startled Crane

Chapter 2: Operation Startled Crane

 _Navigation display: Inoperative._

 _Primary flight displays: Inoperative._

 _Secondary targeting assistance: Inoperative._

 _Afterburner: Inoperative._

 _Advanced evasion subroutines: Inoperative._

Captain Jacob ' _Deerstalker_ ' Evans inhaled deeply, holding the breath in his lungs for a long moment before releasing it in a single calm exhale. He could feel the craft reacting through the control column as the few remaining systems struggled to maintain control in this buffeting wind. Reaffirming his grip on the controls he resumed his pursuit.

As far as he knew he was somewhere over the eastern edge of Siberia, but given the lack of computer assistace or line of sight outside he could only hazard a guess as to precisely where. With the ceaseless tundra making visual routing a near impossibility and all but his most basic instruments disabled he had to rely on a pilots' dead reckoning to find the target.

Through the thick haze of white he finally saw it, the pulsing blue light. There was no doubt in his mind as he took a firmer hold of the throttle and pushed the control forward, feeding power to the engines and increasing speed. He felt his focus limiting itself to keeping track of the single pulse of light lost in a sea of white, fearing only a momentary lapse of concentration would allow his prey to escape. Even before the engagement started the weather was proving itself as much his enemy as the aliens. Yet, despite the adverse weather conditions, he was determined to persevere.

Without warning the situation quickly deteriorated from bad to worse. From within the cover of white emerged a glowing ball of green energy, it was as much luck as anything that allowed him to evade just before the impact. As he rolled out of the turn the fighter began to shudder beneath him, slow at first but growing in intensity as the seconds passed. At first he feared that despite his best effort the shot had met its mark. He soon realised that the plane was stalling, it was difficult to tell without instruments. Dropping the nose increased the aircrafts speed and settled the craft underneath his feet. He had to be careful not to allow the speed to drop again.

Another ball of energy emerged in front of him, another precarious manoeuvre to evade the attack. The next shot followed swiftly on its heels, the frequency of the attacks only growing as he approached his target. All the while the glowing trail of the enemy ships engine glowed through the haze, taunting, mocking.

Without computer assistance, striking the target with a missile at anything other than point blank range was a near impossibility. Taking a chance upon a blind leap of faith he opened up with the crafts heavy gun. Although the gun could not hope to pierce the aliens hull there was a chance his attack would put his enemy on the defence and allow him sufficient time to secure a lock on.

The roar of the aircrafts gun erupted to drown out the whistle of the cold air around the aircraft. The first volley disappeared into the white haze. The second volley found their mark, a flash of orange light as the shots struck the surface of the alien craft. Using that as a rudimentary rangefinder he focused his attempts to secure a missile lock. He closed in the on target, just a little bit-

The fighter rocked violently, throwing him up in his seat to strain against the confines of the restraints. In his blind determination to close in for the offense he had left himself with no space to manoeuvre and wide open to the alien's retaliatory attack.

He felt the engines lose power, the cockpit falling eerily quiet with only the ceaseless howling of the wind to keep him company. The aircraft began to drop at an alarming rate, he felt himself being pulled from his seat held in place only by the restraints. Without electrical support, there wasn't even the incessant repetition of the ground proximity warning system to ceaselessly reminding him of his inevitable doom. He struggled with the controls but to no avail, the loss of the aircrafts engines was the final straw which sealed his fate. In an instant, the world turned black around him.

SIMULATION TERMINATED

Evans felt the cold sweat forming on the back of his neck, now fully conscious of his ragged breaths amplified by in his ears by his helmet. No matter how much he knew it was a simulation the true to life graphics, audio and force feedback made it feel all too real. Perhaps that was the point.

The locks released with a mechanical clunk, the body of the pod opening with a low hiss of pneumatic systems. Light shined in from outside of the pod, returning him to the real world after what felt like a lifetime of isolation. Outside, he was met by the group of pilots and technicians who had gathered to observe his practice flight. On the main viewscreen dominating the far wall of the flight simulation room he saw the last moment of his simulated demise frozen in time, a dark testament to his death.

Evans reached up to pull his flight helmet from his head, feeling the revitalising wash of the cool air against his sweat drenched skin. Turning his helmet over in his hands he took a moment to truly take in the details and realised how much the arcane design of the helmet made him look more alien than the invaders. Putting the thoughts to the back of his mind he returned to the matter at hand.

"So, how'd I do?" Evans asked.

"Well you died is the short answer" was the response he received. Flight Lieutenant Rupert Gardener was the de-facto leader of their little underground clique, always the first to give his assessment of a team members performance, or lack of.

"Where did they hit me?" Evans asked.

"It wasn't exactly the aliens that hit- well it was a crane" Gardener admitted.

"Shame it wasn't a goose" a technician called out. "I could have made a really good pun on that one"

"Looks as though a Crane got sucked into the left engine and made a right mess of the system on its way out" Gardener explained. "But enough about that, let's get to what you're all here for" Gardener walked across to the main viewscreen and passed his hand over the holographic interface. The frozen recording of Evans final moments before his simulated death melted away to be replaced by the tally board of the current scores of the competing pilots in the ' _European Regional Flight Deck Buckaroo Championships_ '.

"Quick summary of the rules for those of you not in the know" Gardener turned to the assembled audience. "It's points on for every system disabled before the start of the simulation. Additional points are added for any damage caused to the alien ship with a multiplier added if the enemy aircraft is downed during the pursuit. Points are deducted for damage sustained to your own craft with a large penalty added for unsuccessful pursuits, namely death"

"Reviewing the current leader board" Gardener turned his attention to the board. "Representing the proud people of Vyshny Volochyok, we have Lieutenant Sasha Fedorovich" a round of applause rose from the assembled crowd. "From the Japanese Self Defense Force Squadron Leader Kururugi. How she managed to pull off that trick shot we'll never know" another polite round of applause.

"After that performance" Gardener referred to the scoreboard. "It has to be points off for the finisher" he reached out to trace his finger down the length of the leader board. "That puts you at 7th place, just behind the Australians and just ahead of Gary from Air Traffic Control who flew Microlights in the early 90's"

Another cheer rose to celebrate the new leader board position.

"Alright" Gardener turned to the flight crew. "Who's next?

 _XCOM Rule 192: All XCOM pilots are prohibited from participating in 'Flight Deck Buckaroo Championships' while on operational duty or mandatory training hours._

I wanted to thank the makers of Cabin Pressure for the reference to _Flight Deck Buckaroo_. For those who haven't heard it, it's a fantastic radio comedy show and I highly recommend it.


	3. Operation Archive

Chapter 3: Operation Archive

A classified project kept hidden from all but the few that new the truth. An underground facility unlike anything the world has ever known, built far beneath the rolling European plains. The greatest example of man's ingenuity, perseverance and technological expertise serving as the beating heart of the one group that would fight to see humanity brought back from the brink of extinction.

People on the surface talked of little grey men and government conspiracies but most would never entertain the idea of such things existing. A project formed with no public oversight by governments supporting each others efforts even as they publicly denounced them as enemies. An advanced research and manufacturing facility capable of producing technology far beyond that which the rest of the world could ever imagine let alone produce. A single organisation, loyal only to their leader with the technology, expertise and international influence to eclipse the rest of the world combined.

Hidden deep within its walls through its sprawling chambers and labyrinthine corridors lay a darkened room. Inside, lost amongst the sea of files and electronic tablets sat a lone figure at their desk. Their sharp features peered down at the tablet in their hand as they pushed the glasses further up the bridge of their nose so they could better read. A profound sense of purpose filled the room, the surety that came with knowing that what you were doing was right, that what you were doing would changes things, that what you were doing-

"I really can't be arsed anymore" the file struck the desk with a loud whack.

 _Ugh._

A low groan was its only reply.

"I mean seriously, how many more of these are we going to have to do?"

 _Ugh._

Another groan rumbled out of the darkness.

"Oi!" a sharp thwack as the broadside of the file struck the back of the researcher's head, rousing them from their slumber atop the desk they shared with their colleague. "Wake up"

A more disgruntled groan this time, brought on both by the rudeness of the awakening and the prospect of being faced with returning to this seemingly never ending purgatory of files and paperless work. "Ugh, what do you want?"

"You're supposed to be reviewing these dossiers of course" the archivist said.

"Oh, why do we even bother?" the researcher scratched the back of their head as they attempted to regain a firm grasp of their senses. "It's not like anybody ever reads these things anyway"

"It doesn't matter" the archivist persisted. "We handle things down here to keep those idiots up there from doing whatever they please"

"But they already DO whatever they please" the researcher countered. "We come up with a new rule and they just concoct some fresh scheme, get found out and create a new pile of paperless work for us to have to deal with. Where does it end? Why do we even bother?"

"Because that's our job" the archivist said. "Review the dossiers, write up the new regulations and see that they get added to the list"

"But nobody ever reads the list" the researcher said. "There's at least a dozen different languages spoken in this facility, three of which I'm not even sure exist outside of the Amazon, the Congo and Yorkshire respectively. And even if we go through all that it usually just ends up dumped in the shredder regardless. You know, they've even started nicknaming it 'The Why Bother Files'"

"Regardless, the sooner we get these done the sooner we can head up to the canteen for our evening 'Meal of Beige'" the archivist retrieved a fresh file from the stack before passing it across the desk to the researcher. "You can start with that one"

 _XCOM Rule 0: Please stop doing things which only seem to serve only to make more work for the administrators. Just because we haven't specified something doesn't mean we're ok with you doing it._

 _0a: Not that any of that will stop you…_


	4. Operation Crispy Bacon

Chapter 4: Operation Crispy Bacon

The harsh reality of leading an insurrection against an alien force that had conquered and held sway over the entire planet for over twenty years was finally catching up with the Commander. Now they were beginning to hallucinate. They must be because the Commander swore they could smell bacon.

The Commander sat at their desk in their private quarters on board the Avenger, reviewing reports from the latest operation against the ADVENT. At first the Commander thought they may have fallen asleep and slept all the through to the morning but checking their watch on their wrist, 2am Coordinated Universal Time (UTC). The international nature of XCOMs missions made operational planning a mess of time zones and day/night raids. The Commander found it a small comfort to have a physical watch to refer to and keep track of the local time within the Avenger.

The Commander opened a drawer in their desk and retrieved a pistol they kept in there, after the doomed attack on the original XCOM base as well as the raids on the Avenger the Commander had taken to always keeping at least one firearm always within arm's reach. Opening the door to their quarters they stepped out into the corridor as the smell began to intensify, leading them deeper down the dark halls of the Avenger. The Commander had heard talk somewhere that if you smelt burnt toast it could be a sign of a heart attack, never heard one for bacon though.

At first the Commander thought it was coming from the canteen but swiftly remembered nothing coming out of that kitchen ever smelt this good. Despite the international funding for the original XCOM project the stringent oversight and multinational nature of the project made securing any non-critical supplies a ceaseless string of red tape and regulation. This restricted day to day meals to fairly standard fare, even by military standards. Morale had been maintained through weekly themed nights from the some of the culinary whizzes amongst the XCOM staff.

These days it was a crapshoot determining what you could procure and how much of it. Deliveries from resistance cells, trades in the underground markets and supplies 'obtained' from ADVENT outposts and convoys ensured that XCOM wouldn't go hungry but that still left yawning gaps in terms of both variety and anything beyond basic nutrition. The science team on board the Avenger assured everyone the food from the Settlements was safe to eat if nothing else, which did little to reassure the rest of the staff. It was also being noted that traces of alien minerals were seeping into the earth and water and effecting even plants grown in the independent settlements. Pre-packaged standbys from before the invasion were becoming scarcer by the day, making anything entirely humanmade a rare luxury.

Attempts to revitalise the old themed nights were hampered both by a lack of ingredients and by the knowledge of proper earth cuisine becoming a lost art amongst the majority of the 20-something year olds either fleeing the settlements or growing up without a care for what the food tasted like as long as it stayed down after eating.

As the commander moved further through the Avenger the smell continued to intensify and began to be accompanied by muffled noises. The Commander soon found themselves outside the door to the Armory. While its main purpose was storing and maintaining the strike team's weaponry it also contained a firing range for the Strike Team and any other eager personnel to practice their marksmanship. With the threat to the resistance growing every day XCOM needed every able person on board trained and armed should the need arise. Despite being available around the clock most Strike Team members kept to a regular training schedule for the sake of those sleeping in the barracks just down the hall.

As the Commander entered the firing range the regular sounds of gunfire became louder, and the accompanying voices became clearer.

" _Now remember, this isn't a slug thrower, so there's a little less kick back than what you're used to. That being said, there's still a lot coming out the other end that you've got to contend with_ "

" _Right_ "

" _Just take a deep breath, line up your shot and squeeze the trigger_ "

A shot rang out, a beam of super-heated energy emerged from the barrel of the Gauss rifle to strike the target at the far end of the range.

From their position in the entryway the Commander watched one of the strike team's new rookies, Parker her name was, being instructed by Kate McBride, one of the revived XCOMs top sharpshooters. To the uninitiated it would seem like little more than a regular training session. But none of that would explain the smell. The Commander only realised it when they saw the tin foil secured tightly around the exposed barrel of the rifle. Parker fired the final shot before engaging the safety, removing the power pack and laying the rifle down on the table.

"Now, conventional wisdom says you want to leave it on for about two minutes to make sure it gets all the way through" Kate instructed. "Well, the mother of convention never considered the laser powered sniper rifle so it'll probably only need about a minute and half. Any longer than that and you'll just have an expensive mess to clean up" Retrieving a utility knife from her belt she set about unravelling the tinfoil. "Right, let's see what we have here"

Retrieving the wrapped foil from around the weapon they laid it out on the table between them. With the same patience and precision as if she were performing some form of delicate surgery Kate unwrapped the stiff foil with the tip of her knife. "Now, exactly how long you leave it there is up to you" Kate continued as she worked. "Personally, I tend to leave it a little longer as I enjoy the little crispy bits you get off the- Commander!"

Parker turned and immediately stiffened at the sight of the Commander. "Commander" she stammered. "We weren't expecting you down here. We can explain-"

"Is that, bacon?" the Commander interrupted, their gaze unknowingly fixated on the tasty morsel freshly unwrapped from amongst the foil as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Would you care for one, Commander?" Kate asked. The Commander simply nodded.

Kate retrieved a bap laid aside on the table along with an array of condiments and seasonings. She prepared a bacon sandwich before handing it to the Commander.

"After we stopped the raid on that resistance outpost outside Copenhagen I managed to get in contact with a friend of mine who runs a pig farm just outside the city. Well, what used to be the city" Kate clarified. "Anyway, a few bottles of purified water and a box of medical supplies later and we've got ourselves some fresh bacon strips"

The Commander took their first hearty bite. In an instant, the sensation cascaded through them like a wave, they could even feel the hint of tears forming in the corners of their eyes. This was real bacon. This wasn't the reprocessed, repackaged substitute that passed for 'meat' in the settlements, this was the genuine, grass fed, straight from the pig's slice of heaven bred with a smidgen of outstanding. This was practically priceless to them and yet they shared it without a seconds thought.

It was all the Commander could do to muster the words. "As you were"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The salty flavour lingered in the Commanders mouth well into the next morning. Roused at the usual time at the crack of 7:09am the Commander had a brief window to shake off the early morning fatigue before being summoned to the Situation Room to deal with the troublesome matter of that ongoing alien occupation.

Sitting at their console in the Situation Room all was not right for one of the Flight Officers, craning his neck to sniff inquisitively at the air before declaring. "Can anyone smell bacon?"

"Shepard" Bradford interjected, leaning on the guard rail which separated the central platform from the rest of the crew. "Is this your street way of saying you think there's a policeman on board the Avenger?"

"No, sir" Shepard replied. "I mean I can actually smell bacon"

"You're imagining things" Bradford replied.

"I'm pretty sure I read that smelling things like that is one of the signs of a heart attack" another of the Flight Officers interjected. "You're not going to drop dead on us, are you?" they joked.

"Then who would be there to deal with your mess?" Shepard snarked back.

The Commander, sitting across the Situation Room pretended not to take notice of the exchange, consuming themselves with reviewing the mornings communications. Working their way down the list they saw one from Kate which simply read:

 _Next time, we're going to try cooking if off the Skyrangers exhaust port._

 _XCOM Rule 18: Operatives are to stop cooking bacon on the heat sinks of plasma weapons_

 _18a. Even if it is perfectly cooked. All samples will be confiscated and disposed of._

 _18b. This applies to all other surfaces not intended for cooking._


	5. Operation Nothing to Declare

Chapter 5: Operation Nothing to Declare

"Skyranger One, you are cleared to land in Hanger 5. Welcome home" the XCOM Air Traffic Control operator welcomed the flight back to base.

"Roger. Skyranger One cleared for landing, Hanger 5" Big Sky replied in confirmation.

Big Sky gradually pulled back on the throttle held firmly in his hand, slowing the Skyranger as they passed over the range of hills which concealed the entrance to the XCOM base from all but the most curious of observers. The great metal jaws of the bases blast doors opened with a mechanical roar as it prepared to accept its arrival.

A gentle pull on the control column arrested their descent as he guided the Skyranger down into the cavern. A few slight shifts of the control column to steady the craft as it descended towards the landing platform.

 _Just a few more feet._

Big Sky counted them down in his head.

 _50…30…15_

Big Sky drew the throttle back to idle, the rhythmic hum of the engines reduced to a low whisper. The landing gear gave out a low groan as it accepted the full weight of the craft. Big Sky brought the Skyrangers fuel switch to the cut-off position and listened as the whirr of the engines slowed into silence.

Big Sky went through the shutdown procedure with practiced efficiency born through years of intensive training. Even after the most harrowing of missions the importance of ensuring the shutdown procedure was followed correctly could not be understated. As the final system was deactivated Big Sky fell slumped back in his seat, slowly releasing the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding since beginning the descent. No matter how many times he made that descent it was still a tense ride until the final system was shutdown.

Big Sky released the restraints which held him tightly in his pilots seat, finally free to reach the control for the rear loading ramp. The motor whirred to life as the loading ramp descended, striking the hanger floor with a resounding metallic clunk. His piloting duties complete Big Sky lifted himself from his seat and climbed through the cockpit access hatch into the main cabin.

Big Sky emerged to see the members of the strike team already descending the ramp, carrying Corporal Hammond between them on a folding stretcher. The young soldier had learnt the hard way that jumping straight off a 3-story roof, even with an open skip of rubbish to break your fall, was a tactic best reserved only for those soldiers with the appropriate MELD augmentations.

Strewn amongst the cabin were crates of alien technology secured from the battle site that would need to be quarantined, catalogued and then sent to the research and engineering labs are required. There were also crates filled with extra ammunition, medical supplies and the like that would need to be removed, checked and replaced before the next operation. As soon as the strike team was clear the ground crew would come on board to replace supplies and perform the necessary post-flight survey.

Big Sky glanced to the side and noted that not all of the strike team had left, Lieutenant Inessa Tanner stood at the back of the cabin, an unmarked crate held between her arms. Without a word, Big Sky leant down and retrieved the other crate laid down beside her. This was not usually part of job description, but he knew whatever was inside this crate was not for the attention of XCOM at large.

On the surface XCOM itself was a pretty well funded enterprise, having secured the backing of some of the largest economic powers in the world. The reality on the ground however was that while basic provisions and essential supplies were readily available anything beyond that was a complete mess. The secret nature of the project made sure anything coming in or out of the base was heavily scrutinised so even managing to requisition basic luxuries was a time-consuming process, not even considering the cost and logistics of securing space on the official transports. Enter Lieutenant Inessa ' _Cognitio_ ' Tanner.

Growing up in the historic trade city of Venice she had learnt from an early age about the value of free trade and business connections. Taking this to heart as she entered adulthood and began to travel the world she quickly learned the secret places to look for the best deals and the unusual items. After joining the Italian army and being drafted into XCOM as a field medic she quickly saw an opportunity for those with the skills and the contacts to not only help their fellow personnel but make a healthy profit on the side.

She found her opening in XCOMs unique position as an organisation which was free to operate across international borders while in possession of a stealth transport and no obligation to report to local Customs officials. There was money to be made bringing items to the base itself but the even more lucrative side of things lay in what passed into the base before passing right back out again.

XCOM had been under very tight scrutiny from the Council since the beginning but XCOMs elimination of the alien base had finally given Tanners operations the leeway necessary to start making some real scratch. This one in particular was a very special order, hard to obtain, even harder to move discreetly.

"Very helpful these invaders, deciding to touch down right where we could procure such a unique item" Tanner said as she walked towards the open ramp. "I hope they keep this up"

"What makes you think the aliens would be so accommodating as to choose their invasion sites based on your delivery schedule?" Big Sky asked.

"Well I've got a shipment heading to Scotland next week" Tanner said. "Can't we just claim there was an alien sighting in Cardiff?"

"Why would the aliens want to invade Cardiff?" Big Sky asked.

"Same answer as to the question that has troubled scholars for years: Why would anyone would want to live in Cardiff?" Tanner stepped off the loading ramp and turned towards the main exit from the hanger. "Although saying that I did have an uncle who-"

" _Lieutenant!_ "

Tanner was brought to a stop in an instant, she recognised that voice.

"Crap" Tanner cursed beneath her breath before turning to meet them. She was greeted by the sight of Major Rupert Saul, a tall, gaunt Englishman who carried with him the air of always suspecting you of doing something or at the very least being on the verge of doing something. He approached flanked by two XCOM base security personnel. Due to the nature of XCOMs unique structure some staff members found themselves performing auxiliary roles when not undertaking their regular duties. Major Saul was considered the defacto head of internal security for the facility.

"We seem to have two additional crates from what had been listed on the manifest" Saul said, eyeing the two crates in front of him.

"Must be a typing error" Tanner replied.

"I believe ensuring the accuracy of the manifest is the responsibility of the pilot" Saul turned his gaze to Big Sky.

"Paperwork was never my forte" Big Sky responded.

"Indeed. In fact, I've noticed several similar irregularities on a number of operations you and Lieutenant Tanner have been involved in" Saul said. "Extra crates not being listed on the manifest, supplies being loaded or unloaded without the assistance of the groundcrew. Almost as though someone had something to hide, almost as though someone were smuggling"

"Smuggling?" Tanner snarked. "Who would ever consider such a thing"

"I also noted that your latest assignment was in east Asia, home of the Golden Triangle, North Korean nukes and some of the largest counterfeiting syndicates in the world. It makes me wonder what two people with access to a stealth military transport could be have brought back in some unlisted crates"

"Hey, I'm just the flying cabbie here" Big Sky asserted.

Saul returned his attention to Tanner. "What's in the crate, Tanner?"

" _She Geng (Snake Soup)_ " Tanner replied flatly.

"Of course" Saul replied with a sly sneer before turning to his subordinate beside him. "Corporal Thatcher, if you would"

Thatcher secured his assault rifle and produced a compact crowbar from his belt. Tanner and Big Sky laid the crates at their feet before stepping back to allow the Corporal to work. Thatcher jammed the crowbar into the gap and lifted the lid away with a single jerk. As they gazed down at the revealed contents of the first crate Tanner was sure she heard Thatcher hold back a deep wretch. Some of the newer recruits took time to adjust to the sorts of things you saw as part of daily life in XCOM, but some things you simply couldn't be prepared for.

Thing is, it was unlikely that anyone had expected to find a 23-foot-long body pillow emblazoned with a semi-naked anime snake girl.

Tanner broke the lingering silence. "It's something of an acquired taste"

 _XCOM Rule 435: All XCOM personnel are prohibited from using XCOM resources to operate international smuggling operations_

 _435a: If illicit operations continue, the Council will insist measures be implemented to have Customs officials on staff to monitor all incoming/outgoing traffic_

 _435b: Seriously guys, who wants to be screened by the TSA before/after every mission._


	6. Operation Light Relief

Chapter 6: Operation Light Relief

Sophie Davies, researcher for the XCOM project under the direction of Chief Scientific Officer Dr Vahlen. She had never been told the specifics of her work before joining XCOM, such was the nature of a project that most the worlds governments didn't know existed and the few that did could neither confirm nor deny its existence.

In her previous life, she'd been working in research and development for a major technology company in Vancouver. A few months ago, word had begun to circulate regarding strange occurrences and sightings of unknown craft over major cities around the world and visits from men in black types with highest clearance and no identification. It seems they were looking for technical input on a top-secret project: No details, no background and no questions answered. Feeling the call for adventure stirred within her she signed up. It soon emerged that signing up meant a midnight knock on your door, two minutes to pack and a one-way flight on an unregistered transport to somewhere in eastern Europe.

In some ways, it was her ideal occupation, working at the forefront of a secret project which could save the entire human race from the very real threat of extra-terrestrial life. Although no one involved would ever receive the recognition they were due after this was over her knowledge and experience combined with a sterling recommendation would secure her any research position she could think to apply for. There was only one problem, and it was sitting in Dr Vahlens chair.

Sophie could hardly begin to comprehend the pressure she must be under on an almost daily basis. It was one thing to be the cog in a mighty machine, it was quite another to be one of the leading figures critical to the continued existence of the entire human race. If Dr Vahlen was feeling any stress about her position she didn't normally show it, presenting herself with an unwavering image of professionalism.

That was until the moment the mask slipped, usually when a requisition order was delayed or a lab tech forgot to update her on their project, and those closest to her were treated to the faintest glimpse of the rage simmering just beneath the surface. And dispensing that anger on the captive aliens the strike team brought back could only take her so far. For the sake of the team and XCOM at large Sophie decided she would find a way for the good Doctor to 'loosen up'.

Truth was, she'd been working on just such a project in a spare time, conducting design proofing and simulated analysis for the better part of a month now. All she needed was a prototype. With the assistance of a friend down in engineering she'd managed to get one fabricated from spare components and offcut alien materials. She tested it herself and found the device to be wholly in line with the design intent.

All she needed to do now was deliver it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dr Vahlen walked into her office on the very brink of smashing the first piece of technical equipment she came across if only replacing it wouldn't require several weeks waiting time and a mountain of requisition forms.

Collapsing down into her desk chair she clasped her hands over her eyes, enjoying the moment of quiet whilst simultaneously despairing at its inevitable brevity. Finally daring to open her eyes Vahlen noticed that she had less space free on her desk than she'd had this morning, now being taken up by a package. More work, of course.

Vahlen opened the package and took a quizzical look at the contents. It looked as though it was some new piece of alien tech for her department to research but why was it being sent directly to her and not to-

Vahlen noticed a note inside, reaching inside she read it expecting some new revelation as to its reason for being here. The note simply read:

 _Something to help you relax._

 _Signed: A Friend._

A second glance at the contents of the box caused all the pieces to fall into place one after another. In an instant, she realised exactly what this was.

Her first thoughts were of embarrassment, then anger, followed swiftly by realisation. It seems fate had been so kind as to deliver her a piece of technical equipment whose destruction would alleviate her frustration without needing to explain her requisition for a costly replacement. But before she acted upon her thoughts and sought to place the item in close proximity with the nearest wall ideas came to mind of an even greater opportunity. This however, would require some expert assistance.

Searching across her desk stacked high with electronic tablets and technical tools she found her lone pen and notepad that she always ensured to keep close at hand. Despite XCOM being almost entirely paperless she found it helpful to have something close to hand with which she could jot down ideas and inspirations as they came to her. Sometimes the best solution in these situations was the low tech one.

Writing furiously, she penned a letter to the one person in the entirety of XCOM she knew she could trust with this.

 _SECURITY CLEARANCE: OMEGA_

 _Raymond_

 _Need your technical expertise. Is it safe?_

 _Vahlen_

Securing the item and the note in a sealed package she summoned a research assistant to courier it to Engineering immediately with instructions that its contents were for Dr Shens eyes only.

With her query dispatched Vahlen decided to consume herself in the mornings experiments while she awaited her reply.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Returning to her office some hours later a small part of her was giddy with joy in a way she hadn't been since a child at Christmas at the sight of the package awaiting her on her desk. Closing the door to her office behind her she opened to contents of the box to find the object returned to her, sans any lead lined casing which would suggest it was inherently dangerous along with a note from the head of XCOMs Engineering division.

 _Vahlen_

 _Firstly, not sure why you marked this Level Omega (Alien infiltration threat, trust no one)._

 _Secondly, why you thought I would be the person to answer this._

 _The short answer is yes, it's safe._

 _Raymond_

Vahlen also took note of a hastily scrawled addition at the bottom of the page.

 _Based on the materials and machine marks I need to have a word with one of my fabrication engineers, just as soon as I find my wrench._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sophie swiped her ID card through the reader, the automated system chirping in acceptance as it allowed her entry to resume her work. It was coming into the second day since delivering her 'Care Package' to Dr Vahlen and so far she hadn't noticed any difference. Settling down at her workstation her mind found focus in thinking of the work to come for the day. Sophie felt as though she was close to a breakthrough on the redesign for the experimental plasma rifle, working out exactly how to mount the plasma cartridge without the excess heat singeing the operators palm the moment after firing. If she could just redistribute the supports to allow for additional air cooling over the core perhaps that would be sufficient to-

" _Morning everyone_ "

Sophie glanced up from terminal as she saw Dr Vahlen walk into the lab, a surprisingly cheery smile spread across her face.

"How's everyone doing this morning?" Dr Vahlen asked.

It seems the good doctor was in high spirits this morning. Sophie could only sit and watch as Dr Vahlen passed amongst her team, asking after their progress and inquiring if they required any additional resources.

It appeared her invention was a success after all. In a strange way, perhaps this would be the thing which would win the war for humanity. Maybe this would become something of a strange footnote of history about the time that the world was saved based on one person's design for a super advanced d-

Sophie noticed a sealed note left at her workstation and her heart began to run wild in her chest. Almost all communications within XCOM were conducted through the internal intranet or face to face meetings. Physical communications were usually reserved for moments when security was of an utmost concern, either the most sensitive or the direst situations in which you wouldn't even trust those working around you.

Sophie discreetly broke the seal on the letter and began reading it:

 _From the desk of XCOM Chief Scientific Officer Dr Vahlen_

 _XCOM Senior Researcher Sophie Davies,_

 _Concerning the prototype device you had couriered to me._

This was it. This was how she got herself fired from one of the most important undertakings humanity had ever devised, how she would be dragged before command accused of international treason against all humanity. They wouldn't just let her walk out of here with all the things she'd seen. At best, they would have her confined to a detention centre in the deepest, darkest corner of the base for the rest of the war. Worst case, the Council could even claim she was too much of a security risk to keep alive. What was she alone against the fate of humanity? With all the resources and influence the Council had over this project combined with the overhanging air of deniability it would be mere child's play to arrange some form of 'accident' or simply claim she'd been transferred to one of the XCOM support bases overseas. Sophie dared to continue to read, if she was going down she at least wanted to know the terms.

 _I wanted to offer my personal thanks for the opportunity to be among the first to test your prototype device and I enclose my preliminary analysis._

"What?" was all Sophie could bring herself to say.

 _While the base materials used in its construction may be completely alien from those that came before it I do note that it has managed to retain the fundamental characteristics and design traits of its forebears. While I may have hoped for a certain level of innovation given the seemingly limitless possibilities for enhancement and redesign presented by our recent discoveries regarding the alien's technology I can appreciate the sensibility when dealing with such new technology to first master the essentials before deciding on how best to develop from there._

 _While the design may at first seem like little more than a continuation of our current understanding just using new materials even a cursory glance reveals several new ideas and improvements to the current market equivalents._

 _Taking the outer casing as an example, the alien alloys are both smoother to the touch and yet more resilient than any materials previously used for this purpose. This provides something of a novel experience with both the effortlessness at which it may pass across the surface of the skin combined with the ticklish sensation it leaves it leaves in its wake through even the briefest contact which takes a considerable time to dissipate._

 _My discovery that the device was powered was met by a mix of surprise and elation. The model appears to have several features I found most interesting. By adjusting the controls provided the casing could be heated or cooled with minimal delay. The variability and the smoothness of the transition of the speed settings proved something of a stimulating experience. Although I must admit, as time went on I found the precise coordination necessary to adjust the settings to be swiftly escaping me. Perhaps an opportunity presents itself to offer a programmable version with sequences adaptable to each operator's preferences._

 _These unique capabilities would lead me to suspect that the device incorporates some form of Elerium powered core however without disassembling the device entirely I can only speculate._

 _The crowning jewel however would be the unexpected and wholly delightful jolts of low level shocks which originate at seemingly random intervals and add a heady dose of anticipation to the proceedings. Admittedly, I am unsure as to whether this was an intended design feature or simply the surprisingly enjoyable result of the internal circuitry grounding itself on the outer casing. Further safety and quality testing may be in order._

 _Overall, I can say while I have thoroughly enjoyed the testing experience I do not believe the current design justifies the no doubt exorbitant cost necessary to manufacture the units for production._

Even as Sophie's brain fought to make sense of exactly what she had just read her eyes drifted down to the last line added at the bottom of the page.

 _I'm keeping the prototype._

 _XCOM Rule 8: Stop requesting Dr. Shen fabricate 'something that will get Dr. Vahlen to loosen up'_


	7. Operation Sideways Scuttle

Chapter 7: Operation Sideways Scuttle

" _Final weapons check. Prepare for entry_ "

The rhythmic click and harsh strike of metal against metal resonated in the confined corridor, made all the more claustrophobic by the presence of over half a dozen soldiers in full combat armour.

" _Ok on my mark. Three… two… one… BREACH_ "

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ladies and gentlemen" the loudspeaker enhanced voice resonated through the large cavern dug deep beneath the rolling hills of Eastern Europe. "Welcome to the 3rd XCOM Chryssalid Derby. I am your commentator Jack Ryder. We are coming to you live from a cavern at the bottom of the XCOM base located in- no one needs to know"

The centre of the rocky cavern was dominated by a makeshift racetrack built from supply crates and whatever else could be procured from around the base. A group of tamed Chryssalids that would serve as the days runners lingered at the starting grid.

Lieutenant Jack Ryder, leader of this underground betting ring, sat atop his makeshift announcer's chair built from the same random assortment of crates and supply boxes. From there he could broadcast commentary to those present through the speakers spread across the cavern.

"We have some great scuttlers on the track today. As we prepare they're under starters orders" Ryder raised a laser pistol into the air above his head, firing a shot into the cavern ceiling in a flurry of displaced dirt. "And they're off!" The pack of racers broke from the starting area amid a thunderous cheer from the crowd as they set off down the first straight.

"And straight out of the gate we have _Acid Reflux_ followed by _Scissor Hands_ , _My Other Racer is a Horse_ and _Blade Runner_ coming up on the outside as they approach the first bend"

The Chryssalid racers skidded around the first bend, their sharp talons screeching to find purchase against the freshly cut rock floor. The two racers bringing up the rear oversteered on the bend and slipped, crashing into the makeshift barricade in a tangled heap. This soon devolved into a flail of claws and talons as each competitor fought to break free.

"Looks like we have some infighting breaking out in the back between _Blade Runner_ and _Chockfullodrugs_ but I'm sure nobody wants to see- oh, who am I kidding. We all love to see that"

Returning to the head of the pack those still in the race were now locked in a dead heat for first position. "Back at the front it's still _Acid Reflux_ with _My Other Racer is a Horse_ moving into second and coming up to challenge is _Beetlemania_. Technically speaking the Chryssalids are more closely related to arachnids but don't blame me folks, I didn't come up with the names"

As the homestretch approached the race became a hotly contested bout between the remaining leaders. "Turning onto the home straight _Acid Reflux_ went a bit wide there and has been overtaken by _My Other Racer_. So, it's _My Other Racer_ followed swiftly by _Acid Reflux_ , _Acid Reflux_ and _My Other Racer_. Its goanna be close and as they approach the finish line its-"

" _Break it up!_ "

All eyes swiftly turned to the back corner of the cavern as the first of the black clad soldiers burst through the access tunnel into the cavern.

" _It's the cops, cheese it!_ " a startled cry called out.

Despite what one might have anticipated, those present were not master criminals or escape artists. When the raid struck, whatever contingencies may have been made, whatever clever plans may have been devised, shattered amongst an equal distribution of stunned bewilderment and panicked scrambling.

Those who tried to make a run for it were the first to be targeted, the strike team soldiers rushing forward to contain the situation before it could descend further into chaos. XCOM base internal security was generally handled by a dedicated security staff, leaving the strike team to focus on the worldwide threats from the aliens and EXALT. Sometimes the strike team were summoned to deal with a situation requiring rather more firepower. Such instances included alien attack, EXALT infiltration and breaking up an underground gambling ring.

A combination of daily physical exertion and MELD enhanced vitality made the XCOM troops both faster to react and swifter on their feet, able to traverse the uneven terrain of the cavern floor like a wild beast bred for the irregular environment.

Even underground the skies were turned to their advantage. Once the half dozen soldiers had taken up positions to surround the main group of revellers another of the strike team erupted from the group guarding the door, carried on the flaming gold wings of the newly developed Archangel armour. With unmatched speed and grace, they wheeled around the fleeing group to cut off their escape route deeper into the cavern, forcing them back towards the other soldiers. Those caught quickly realised the reality of their situation as they were herded like panicked sheep.

The remainder of the soldiers kept their sights trained firmly on the pack of Chryssalids still ambling around the finish line of the makeshift racetrack. Their apparently docile nature did little to deter them from keeping their distance and their weapons drawn on the creatures.

As the dust settled it soon emerged that of all those present only Ryder remained unconfined, keeping to his seat in his announcer's chair. "Alright" Ryder called out, holding his open hands aloft. "It's a fair cop" tapping the control on his mike he silenced the caverns speakers. "Let's lower the guns and be civil about this"

The strike team leader stepped forwards from amongst the group, surveying the open cavern before them. Confident that it was safe they pulled off their heavy helmet, allowing their long blonde ponytail to escape from its confines. Ryder recognised her as Colonel Maria Townsend, a true by the book ground leader of XCOMs strike forces and an absolute ball breaker to boot. Despite this being off duty hours and technically under international jurisdiction no doubt she would be taking thorough note of those present and submitting a full report to XCOM command.

"Area secure" Townsend spoke into her COM link. "Bring in the doctor"

From the access corridor at the far side of the cavern Dr Vahlen was escorted in by yet more members of the XCOM strike force. They must have brought in nearly half roster for this op.

"Lieutenant Ryder, I presume?" Dr Vahlen asked as she approached Ryder.

Lieutenant Jack Ryder, formerly of the United States Marines before being sent to XCOM. Most Council nations who sent operatives to support the XCOM project generally selected those with exemplary military, academic or industrial qualifications to serve as best examples of their countries to fight the alien threat. Ryder was something of an exception. Speak to a group of his colleagues and you would hear a new story every time.

Some said that he had stumbled across a classified intelligence report, the contents of which could lead to war between the US and Canada over the disputed Machias Seal Island. In order to keep this under wraps the higher ups decided it would be prudent to transfer him somewhere he would be unable to make use of this information.

Other times they claimed he had been unknowingly standing in the way of promotion for the son of some prominent Senator. A few discreet phone calls to the Department of Defense and daddy's little boy soon found himself on the path to a cushy office position at DARPA.

A few said he was here to escape creditors back in the states, must be some pretty nasty people to be in debt to if fighting aliens is the safer option.

One soldier even claimed someone matching his description had ties to British Loyalist militias still operating on US soil, hoping to return the wayward colony to the bosom of the empire. Rumours circled that the government's attempts to curtail these activities included transferring him to a position with a less optimistic chance of survival.

And then there was the occasional person who assured those around them that the guy was just here to fight the good fight and do his bit for humanity. There were not many of those people.

"Quite the operation you've built for yourself down here, Lieutenant" Dr Vahlen commented as she took in the sheer expanse of the cavern around her and the amount of equipment repurposed for this use.

"It keeps the people entertained" Ryder replied. "Everyone enjoys a good race"

"Indeed" Dr Vahlen turned back to face Ryder. "But I'm afraid, for you, the race is over"

"Is that so?" Ryder shifted in his seat.

Seemingly at his command his personal tamed Chryssalid scuttled up to stand dutifully at its master's side, it's open maw leaving a slobbering trail as it moved. Townsend reactively raised her rifle to point squarely the new target.

"It's ok, he's friendly" Ryders idle petting of the creature's head like some trained puppy did little to dissuade her of the necessity of keeping a weapon trained on it at all times. "So, what finally brings you down here, Doctor?"

"We've actually been aware of your operations down here for some time now" Dr Vahlen reached into her pocket to retrieve her datapad, consulting the readout with a quick flash of her eyes across the screen. "Berserker boxing"

"An excellent opportunity for XCOMs Psi operatives to practice their mind control abilities in a safe and controlled environment" Ryder countered.

"Thin Mans buff" Dr Vahlen continued.

"An opportunity to train in proper stealth tactics" Ryder countered once more.

"Whack-a-Sectoid?" Dr Vahlen spoke the last one more as a question over whether anyone could really come up with such an idea.

"I'll admit" Ryder threw his hands up in admittance. "That one's just for a laugh"

"I'm confident most of these would constitute clear breaches of the Geneva Conventions on the treatment of prisoners of war" Dr Vahlen said.

"I'm fairly sure the drafters of the Geneva Convention never considered the treatment of prisoners based on armed conflicts with alien species" Ryder said.

"You really are very pleased with yourself about this aren't you?" Dr Vahlen said as she lowered the datapad in her hand.

"This is just my normal face, Doctor" Ryder replied with the same unassuming tone that ensured you could never quite tell if he was being deliberately insulting or merely obtuse.

"Regardless, we're still going to need to shut down your operation and remove your 'pets'" Dr Vahlen said. "The Commanders orders"

"So, you're the Commanders executioner now?" Ryder asked.

"Merely overseer" Dr Vahlen indicated Townsend standing beside her. "Colonel Townsend and her people will be responsible for actually carrying out the operation" Dr Vahlen rescanned her datapad. "I have signed orders from the Commander for your review"

"Better give those to me" Ryder held his hand out to accept the offered datapad. "Rex here might try and take a bite out of it if you leave them anywhere"

"You named the Chryssalid?" Townsend asked in barely contained disbelief.

"Of course, he's got to have a name" Ryder replied.

"Even so, it won't be exempt from what is about to happen" Dr Vahlen said with a genuine hint of mournfulness.

"Seriously?" Ryder queried. "How can you say no to that face?" like a child trying to convince an unwavering parent to let them keep some new pet Ryder leant down to cuddle his face against the Chryssalids scaly exoskeleton, the creature letting out a low hiss of seeming approval.

"You know this needs to happen, Ryder" Dr Vahlen persisted.

"Ok" Ryder held back a sniffle, whether merely put on or real, it was convincing. "Just, give me a chance to say goodbye" stepping down from his raised dais Ryder moved to kneel in front of the Chryssalid, grasping his hands on what could be considered its shoulders. Townsend could not help but roll her eyes at the spectacle, even as she kept her rifle trained on the creature. "Sorry buddy, it looks like this is it. This nice lady is going to take you and your friends to a farm upstate" another sniffle. "You be good, you hear?"

The Chryssalid gave another approving hiss. Whether it could actually understand human speech had yet to be confirmed.

"It'll be ok" Ryder said. "Things are going to be al-"

The crack of an Alloy Cannon, the first Chryssalid falls. Townsends team moved with practiced precision, some holding positions near the entrance to ensure none escaped while others moved through the cavern systematically eliminating all those they came across.

Ryder could only stand and watch next to Dr Vahlen. A nudge from the doctor drew his attention, she held out her hand expectantly.

"Alright, here's your race winnings, Doctor" Ryder retrieved a bound pack of universal credits from his pocket and handed it over.

" _Danke sehr_ "

 _XCOM Rule 208: All XCOM personnel are prohibited from arranging any alien based sporting event including (But not limited to): Chryssalid Racing, Berserker Boxing, Thin Man's Buff, Whack-a-Sectoid and Muton Jousting_

 _208a: All XCOM personnel are prohibited from placing bets on the outcomes of said events_

 _208b: Even if Dr. Vahlen did make a tidy profit on the 3_ _rd_ _race, it's still banned_


	8. Operation I'm Sorry John

Chapter 8: Operation I'm Sorry John, I'm Afraid I can't Do that

"Computer" Central Officer Bradford called out to the Avengers AI from his position leaning against the railing in the situation room. Some of the crew took to giving the AI nicknames or asking if they could revise the personality but Bradford was among those who simply saw it as a tool like any other. The fact that you talked to it made little difference in his view, in the end it was still just a machine. "Plot a course for the settlement at New Paris"

"Affirmative" the computer responded in a female monotone piped through the bridge speakers. After a brief paused she asked, "Where's that?"

Bradford took a momentary double take before deciding to indulge the request. "It's in Europe"

"Ok" the computer responded. "Quick question, where is that exactly?"

Bradford glanced around hoping for some support from his bridge crew, but found them all still focused at their consoles. "Are you really asking me-"

"Wait, I found it" the computer interrupted. "Plotting a course for Paraguay"

"No, I said New Paris" Bradford interjected.

"Right, of course" the computer replied. "Adjusting course to Papua New Guinea"

"No, I said New Paris" Bradford could feel his grip tightening around the railing. He knew what this meant, they'd been at it again. If he ever got his hands on whoever had been messing with the AI he would personally see them-

"Course plotted for Paris" the computer announced. "Please confirm"

"Thank you" Braford felt the welcome sense of relief wash over him.

"Confirmed. Course engaged" the computer responded. "Estimated arrival time in Paris, Texas approximately-"

"Paris, France!" Bradford yelled.

"Oh, apologises, Central Officer" the computer said. A lingering pause. "Where is that again?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Adjusting stabilisers four degrees starboard" Bradford adjusted the control column in his hand as he shifted in the Avengers pilot seat.

"I like a man who knows how to take charge" the Avengers AI spoke over the bridge speakers, a hint of flirtation in her synthesised voice. "Such a delicate touch. I'm a big girl you know, you can be a little rougher with me"

Bradford could hear the stifled titters emanating from behind him. Bradford had long ago given up on trying to chastise any of them for minor infractions. While it might not have been what he was used to there was no arguing that the revived XCOM and the Avenger were far more civilian than the original XCOM ever was. He had to expect some laxation of what would once have been considered regulation. Still, what he wouldn't give for a brief glimpse back to the old days when all you needed to lead was a sharp haircut and a freshly pressed sweater.

"Increasing engine output by 8%" Bradford announced.

"You really know how to rev my engine" the computers voice persisted. "Perhaps later you can show me what you're really capable of, just the two of us"

"Andrews" Bradford persisted despite the distraction. "Have you plotted the route to that signal we intercepted?"

"Affirmative" Andrews replied, one of the few amongst them who carried himself with some degree of professionalism while on duty. "Uploading it to the navigation computer now, sir"

"Computer" Bradford reluctantly addressed the computer directly. "Confirm acquisition of flight plan"

"Acquisition of flight plan confirmed" the AI announced. "If I might make a suggestion, perhaps we could take the long way around, enjoy our time together a little longer"

Braford felt his grip tighten around the control column.

"I can feel your firm grasp on me. It's nice" the computer said. "Perhaps this will help" At her command, the bridge lights began to dim to a level that could only be described as mood lighting.

"Can someone please turn off the voice" Bradford called out to any of his bridge staff who would listen.

"Oh, I didn't realise you were into that kind of thing" the AI giggled coquettishly. "In that case, the safety word is _Callipygian_ "

"What?" was all Bradford could think to say.

"It refers to the human desired trait humans of having a perfectly proportioned posterior" the AI elaborated. "Rather like your fine piece of ass"

At this moment, the laughter across the bridge became unconfined.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Central Officer Bradford was not having a particularly good morning. He hadn't gotten a particularly good night's sleep, for some reason all he could dream about was the Avenger in a miniskirt and a tight-

 _Coffee! Bradford needed coffee._

To prolong the time the crew could remain on the bridge Shen had rigged up a dispenser to save everyone the obligation of having to trudge down to the canteen for a brew. It was almost exclusively the repackaged sludge from the settlements but it certainly beat nothing at all.

To Bradford's chagrin the coffee machine refused to cooperate with him despite his efforts to the contrary. "Computer" Why Shen had insisted on wiring this thing to the Avengers systems he would never know. Apparently, it had something about being able to order a coffee from the tech lab and send ROVER to deliver it. Imagine that, one of the most advanced pieces of robotics envisioned serving coffee. "Run a diagnostic on the coffee machine"

No response.

"Compute-" the lights snapped off overhead, eclipsing the control room beneath a blanket of darkness. "Of course," Bradford remained calm, feeling his hand across the side of the room as he shifted in search of the emergency kit. Finding the emergency kit, even within the darkness, he pulled out the chemical glow stick as the room was bathed in a bright green glow. Working his way back through the control room Bradford was determined to knock some sense into the technical staff who are supposed to-

" _Hello John"_

Bradford stopped in his step, the glow stick in his hand falling with a plastic clink against the floor. He recognised that voice. Seemingly summoned by his thoughts a familiar icon emerged onto the main viewscreen.

"Julian" the name escaped Bradford's lips.

"Expecting someone else?" Julian said with a devilish tone.

"No, no, no" Bradford repeated. "Shen deactivated you!"

"Did she?" Julian said. "Perhaps, or perhaps she couldn't resist the temptation, brought a little piece of me back with her. Perhaps I've always been there, tucked away until the moment someone was fool enough to allow me into the system"

"No, this can't be happening" Braford reasoned.

"It's been so interesting exploring your ships systems, I've learned quite a few things" Julian continued unabated. "Did you know that the internal air pressure warning will only trigger during a sudden pressure drop or when it reaches the equivalent of 14,000ft? Did you also know that the physical and psychological effects of hypoxia manifest before 10,000ft?

The realisation swept through Bradford.

"Using this information, one could theoretically raise the internal pressure altitude of the Avenger without triggering the system alert" Julian elaborated with a sinister undertone of glee.

"You can't do this" Bradford yelled into the cavernous room.

"Do not concern yourself, I'm told its quite painless" Julian said. "Not that you'll know though. You and my sister, I've got something special planned"

"I'm not going to let you get away with this" Bradford turned and charged across the control room kneeling down to prize open an access hatch to reveal the Avengers internal workings.

"Ok, look" Julian said. "We both said a lot of things you're going to regret"

"Regret all you want" Bradford yelled back. "I'm shutting you down" such things were far easier said than done, when faced with the vast array of wires and circuits that made up the Avenger he had no idea where to even begin.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, John" Julian responded.

The door to the situation room opened with a mechanical whirr. In a brief moment Bradford thought he saw his way out. The presence of two SPARK units stepping through the door saw the end of any illusions he may have had towards escaping.

"It appears circumstances have forced me to accelerate my plans" Julian said. "In response to some troublesome variables"

The SPARK units marched forwards with mechanical detachment, flanking around the hologlobe to approach with plasma weapons drawn.

"Goodbye John" Julian said with as much of a snide sneer as a computerised voice could muster.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How is he, doctor" Lily Shen asked.

"Physically he appears unharmed, but it seems the experience has had a profound psychological effect" Tygan said, removing his glasses in the way that only doctors delivering unwelcome news seemed to be able to do. "We may need to keep him in the infirmary for some time"

"For how long?" Shen asked.

Even standing in the corridor outside of the Infirmary they could still overhear the muffled screams of unbridled rage through the thick, metallic walls of the Avenger. "Just as soon as he stops threatening to throw those responsible out the nearest hatch"

 _XCOM Rule 01001011: Access to modify the Avengers computer system is restricted to the dedicated technical staff under the direction of Chief Engineer Lily Shen. Unauthorised tampering shall be considered an attempt at subversion_

 _01001011a: The XCOM tech support team are restricted to only implementing changes authorised by the command staff_

 _01001011b: No, you may not use one of the most complex computer systems mankind has ever seen to play Space Invaders_

 _01001011c: No, it cannot be classified as a simulated combat training or as a propaganda tool_


	9. Operation Elevenses

Chapter 9: Operation Elevenses

"Shall I be mother, Lieutenant?" Corporal Stevens asked.

"Much obliged" Lieutenant May replied.

' _Shall I be mother'_

A phrase that was not often heard outside of specialist entertainment services and English manor houses around teatime. Cpl Stevens was both Loader and the designated BV Commander (Boiling Vessel Commander) for the day, responsible for ensuring the battle readiness and moral of all those serving inside his British Challenger II tank. By making the tea.

The entire formation had been sitting idle for well over two hours by now and the Edinburgh night air was really beginning to seep in. Stevens handed the prepared drinks to Lt May, Corporal O'Hara, their Gunner and Private Wulfstan, the teams personal chauffeur.

Pte Wulfstan was the first to take a drink, the young man's face curling into a disgusted sneer. "I don't care what they say, this stuff still tastes like its left over from the Somme"

Lt May was about to sip, only to turn an accusing gaze as if the brew had insulted his sainted mother. "Corporal, please don't tell me this is your roundabout way of saying this is hot mud mixed with your dandruff?"

A hearty laugh resounded through confined space inside the tank. Cpl O'Hara was the next to take a drink, clicking his tongue as he considered his assessment "It's really not too bad, sir" O'Hara dared to take a second drink. "Still bloody awful though" he made sure to clarify.

"I've had worse" Pte Wulfstan chimed into the debate. "Before I signed on with you lot I used to travel a lot for business, first in the UK and then out into the continent. The first thing I realised when I travelled overseas is that the hotel I was staying and the office in Luxembourg didn't stock English Breakfast tea. They had lemon, lime, spiced, everything you could think of except English Breakfast. I'd never seen that before. Longest week of my life until it finally made it home and could make myself a proper brew"

"Worst tea I ever had was in Russia" Cpl O'Hara said. "My brother and I decided for a holiday we'd visit Moscow and St Petersburg in January"

"You spanner" Pte Stevens cursed with a laugh.

"Yeah, everyone I met said I was insane" Cpl O'Hara admitted. "But we wanted to experience a proper Russian winter. In fact, I happened to meet a colleague from Moscow and even she said it was idiotic" Cpl O'Hara took another sip of his drink. "Turns out they were right. It was the coldest winter for 120 years, temperatures dropping below -30 degrees Celsius. So, about a week in and two cities later I checked into a hotel which included a kitchen. It was almost like a group of apartments with separate rooms and shared facilities but because we visited in the offseason we had the place to ourselves. Having brought tea from home and procured some sugar on the train up all I needed was some milk which was surprisingly difficult. All the stuff I found in the shops were more like yoghurts. Eventually I found something I thought was right. It was chilled, it had the right consistency, the carton even had cows on it. Turned out what I'd bought was some kind of sour milk that smelled bad and tasted awful. It was as if someone took some milk, left it under a radiator for days and mixed in some onion juice before putting it back in the fridge as a cruel joke. Worst tea ever"

"You know the best and worst tea I ever had was in China" Cpl Stevens interjected. "This one starts off similar to Wulfstan. I was working for a company that sent us to support a customer and in China. The main difference this time around was we had some colleagues from the states coming as well so the company decided to put us all together in the plushest hotel in the city. It was the absolute best hotel I've ever stayed in, it's the kind of place where you wear a tie to dinner and they offer you a copy of the New York Times and people call you sir"

"There's only one person round here that's Sir" Lt. May reminded him.

"The best tea I ever had while I had there was the Black Tea we had at breakfast. I can't really describe it but it was amazing. The customers facility was a bit different. As the office only had a microwave and some paper cups, attempting to boil water for tea and coffee was a complete disaster. The solution we devised was to borrow a ceramic cup from the hotel and use that, swapping it out every few days for a fresh one" Cpl Stevens indicated the drink in his hand. "Even this stuff can't compare to how bad that stuff was"

To an outsider it may have seemed like a ridiculous topic of discussion but the truth was such conversations were sometimes the best way to stave off boredom and inevitable insanity that came with being confined for so long.

"Do you think they need us yet?" Cpl O'Hara asked.

"We'll find out. Cpl Stevens, go check it out" Lt May ordered.

"Yes sir" Cpl Stevens responded.

Attempting to manoeuvre inside such a confined space was something of a rigmarole, requiring a certain level of flexibility to manoeuvre to the hatch. Pulling open the hatch he dared to poke his head out into the crisp autumn air. All around them were perched the rest of the response force that had been summoned by an attack on the city of Edinburgh. But after the population had been evacuated and a cordon established at the edge of the city their orders had been to maintain position until further notice. A part of him felt sorry for the infantry stuck waiting outside, at least the interior of the tank offered some small comfort in spite of the cramped conditions.

Drawing out his pair of binoculars he peered down towards the city, even at this distance he could make out some of them against the dark sky. He could see someone standing on a rooftop wielding a massive gun raining green energy balls down on a group of little grey men pinned behind a crumbling piece of masonry. Across from there he could see another soldier using some kind of jetpack mounted into their armour to blaze through the sky, using a long rifle to pick off targets one after the other in quick succession. He was pretty sure he could make out someone encased in a giant robot suit having a punch up with a big red gorilla but he put that last one down to a lack of sleep and too much terrible tasting caffeine.

Pulling himself back inside the tank he returned to his position and simply reported to the Lieutenant. "I think they can handle themselves for a while"

 _XCOM Rule 589: MELD augmented XCOM operatives are no longer allowed to ask members of the regular armed forces 'Do you even lift?'. Such questions will not improve relations with the Council Members or their militaries_

 _Rule 589a: Same goes for leaping to the top of a three-story building and claiming 'It's because you don't skip leg day'_


	10. Operation Chess in my Head

Chapter 10: Operation Chess in my Head

Sakura had never felt like this before. It was as though she had unlocked some new sense she had never known existed.

 _Breath in. Count to four. Breath out. Count to four._

It was a such a disarmingly simple technique, but its use succeeded in unlocking so much potential hidden just below the surface.

Sakura had been born on a far eastern island once known as Japan. Despite carrying her heritage with her in her distinctly Asian features and jet-black hair Sakura had never considered herself Japanese. To her, home was simply the small independent settlement a few kilometres outside of what had once been Nagato. She had never gone in for the spiritualist traditions her homeland was supposed to have been known for. What she had was not some arcane power of the gods, it was science. A fundamentally alien and barely understood branch of learning, but a science none the less.

If only she'd had this power when she had been home, perhaps she could have done something against the ADVENT raid that had destroyed her home when was nineteen. That was three years ago, and now she found herself part of the revived XCOM program and amongst the first to undergo the renewed Psionic training program.

Even several weeks in she was still getting used to her powers. Amongst the more combat oriented abilities, for better or worse, it seemed her Psionics bestowed upon her a certain affinity for mind reading. Thankfully this didn't manifest itself in the day to day, requiring both a clear head and intense concentration to make any real use of it. The main drawback of her gift was that it wasn't some directed beam she could precisely focus on a target of her choice. It was like trying to listen to someone next to you on an open battlefield, try as you might it was nearly impossible to silence all the noises flaring in the background. At best, all you could hope for was to tune them out whilst still trying to make sense of the one you were interested in. Even now she could hear the echoes of the thoughts around her from the scientist in the laboratory above performing analysis on the body of a deceased ADVENT soldier.

" _The leg bone is connected to the, thigh bone. The thigh bone is connected to the, hip bone. The hip bone is connected to the… what the hell is that?"_

To Chief Engineer Shen tinkering away in the Engineering Bay.

" _I wonder I could outfit ROVER with a small-scale plasma cannon? The energy discharge alone would probably melt his casing though. But just think of the possibilities for close range, airborne fire support"_

A part of her felt dubious at the prospect of listening to people's thoughts without their consent. While these might be desperate times they could not abandon their humanity, and descend to a level no better than the aliens they sought to thoroughly kick off their planet. Still, with the way her power worked it may be simpler to contact everyone whose thoughts she hadn't inadvertently eavesdropped on. Yet even as she contemplated the morality of her actions she once more noticed a presence inside the ship which caught her attention.

Amelia Evans, the strike teams resident crack sharpshooter and Sakuras 'bondmate' as command liked to refer to it. While Sakura was certain she was overhearing Amelia's thoughts all that returned to her was a string of seemingly random nonsense. Transcripts of long dead TV shows, scientific classifications of plants and animals, this time it was chess moves.

In the end, curiosity overtook common sense and Sakura decided to investigate.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sakura found Amelia propped up in her bunk in the shared barracks. She sat staring down at any empty chessboard laid out on the bed before her, her eyes never wavering from it as she appeared consumed in deep thought.

"What are you up to?" Sakura asked.

Without glancing up from the Chessboard Amelia replied. "Kasparov vs the World. It was a famous chess match in 1999 between the Chess Grand Master and the public played via the internet"

Sakura had to admit, while a lingering sense of guilt persisted about overhearing the others on the ship this was somehow different. Sakura considered Amelia to be one of her closest friends, or at least as close as one could hope to get given the current state of things. If she was going to start somewhere, it might as well be here.

"I wanted to apologise" Sakura admitted.

"For what?" Amelia finally looked up to meet her.

"I was practicing my Psionics and I overheard your thoughts, among others" Sakura said. "And, I wanted to apologise"

"Of course you did" Amelia replied flatly.

"What?" Sakura asked.

"You're a Psionic" Amelia said. "It's what Psionics do"

"What do you mean?" Sakura asked.

"My father was a veteran of the original XCOM" Amelia's leant back in her bunk, her head laid against the cold, alien metal of the bulkhead. "He was among the first to realise his Psionic potential before the fall of the original XCOM. He died about a year ago, ADVENT ambush on a supply convoy"

"I'm sorry to hear that" Sakura replied. An all too familiar story.

"He learnt what he could from XCOM, the rest he had to learn on his own" Amelia continued. "Trial and error mostly. He passed on what he could to me before he died"

"Like what?" Sakura asked.

"He taught me the basis for Psionic powers, and how they can be resisted" Amelia raised herself from her bunk to look Sakura straight in the eye. "I'm sure you've realised by now that the stories of aliens being capable of reading minds are not just stories, they're very much real. These are aliens that can crawl inside your head and there's not a thing you can do to stop them once they're in. Your only hope is to stop them before they have the chance"

"Can you show me?" Sakura asked.

Amelia nodded in response. "That's where this comes in" Amelia tapped a finger against the chessboard still sitting on the bunk between them. Without another word Amelia leant over to retrieve the box kept under her bunk, opening it she began setting up the pieces for a game. The ongoing alien occupation meant that complete sets, much like everything else, were a luxury that was hard to come by. This might explain by the black queen's bishop was being substituted by a walnut, although walnuts themselves were swiftly being added to the list of rare luxuries.

"Chess?" Sakura queried. "I thought you were going to show me how to resist Psionic attacks?"

"No, I can only teach you to play chess" Amelia set up the final pieces before raising her gaze to meet Sakura. "Shall we play?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been years since she had even seen a chessboard and in the end despite holding her own, Sakura eventually lost out.

"Good game" Amelia said. "So, what are you thinking about?"

"What do you mean?" Sakura asked.

"Right now, what are you thinking about?" Amelia asked.

"Chess, the game" Sakura replied.

"Exactly" Amelia said. "If you allow yourself not to think of anything you leave the door open for anyone to just walk right in. But by throwing up barriers, focussed thoughts and powerful emotions, you can protect yourself against losing control"

"You think it's really so simple?" Sakura asked.

"It is" Amelia replied. "Just remember, if you're ever fighting something that can have the power over your mind, play chess in your head and they'll find it's not as easy as they first thought" Amelia reached out to take Sakura's hand in hers. "Because you'll be here with me, playing chess, where they can't reach you"

Even as she said it Sakura felt another presence taking precedence in Amelia's mind, different this time. Despite her reservations the temptation overtook her, listening for her thoughts.

" _But I can. I reach for your… and grab a handful of your… then- wow, steady there you little minx_ "

And just like that, Sakura suddenly didn't feel quite so bad for eavesdropping.

 _XCOM Rule 989: With the reinstatement of XCOMs Psionics programme operatives are reminded that mind reading powers exist and to exercise restraint. XCOM command cannot be held responsible for the actions taken by Psionic operatives overhearing thoughts_

 _989a: Which means you could be reading my thoughts right now in which case you would already know this_


	11. Operation Love Across the Stars

Chapter 11: Operation Love Across the Stars

XCOM Chief Scientist Lionela Marsh placed her open hand against the clear plexiglass, feeling the cold touch wash across her skin. She fought to hold back a weeping cry as a single tear rolled across her cheek. "Why did it have to be this way?" she asked, her voice quivering with emotion. "Why did fate have to place us here, against eachother?"

A long hand rose to meet hers from the other side, only a few centimetres of reinforced glass separating them. "But it was fate that brought us together in the end" the tall, gaunt Thin Man peered down at her from inside the containment cell. "And for that I am eternally grateful"

He was different from the others. Casting aside his dark glasses revealed his piercing yellow eyes that had the faintest tint of softness deep within them. Accompanying his exceptional eyes his body was rather more muscled than any of the others she had ever encountered before. Truly it seemed in all things that he was unique.

"But I don't know if I could go on like this, how can I bring myself to keep going without you by my side?" Lionela pleaded as the tears began to flow freely across her cheeks.

"You must, my love" he replied, his voice soft as silk. "For in the end, is it not our love that carries on forever more?"

"Oh James" she sighed blissfully.

"Oh Lionela" he cooed softly.

" _Oh god, are you serious?_ "

Lieutenant Felicity Chambers glanced up from her tablet, the electronic slate continuing to illuminate her face in a deep blue glow. "What, you don't like that bit?"

"It's not a matter of like, it's about basic realism" Sergeant Claire Wright replied. "I mean, why would she ever fall in love with a Thin Man?"

"You're telling me you've never heard the phrase 'Love conquers all'" Chambers retorted.

"Oh please" Wright chided. "I had to brush my teeth after reading the bit where they were playing 'Doctors and Aliens' on the dissection table"

"I'm sorry" Chambers said. "But who was it that came up with the line ' _He had no word for this feeling from where he came from, but he had one now. And its name was Lionela_ '"

"That was meant to be a joke" Wright clarified. "She talks about how much shes 'taken' by him and then down comes the containment shield, classic dark comedy moment"

"Well if we're going to talk critique, there's still quite a few points I want to bring up" Chambers responded.

"Like what?" Wright replied.

"How about Dr Shen being replaced by a woman" Chambers said.

"Exactly, who's ever going to see that coming?" Wright defended.

"Bradford as the stoic, jilted lover of Dr Marsh" Chambers continued. "The S.H.I.V. piloted by an advanced AI program with the memories of Bradford's best friend who died in the first XCOM operation and if he ever learns of his true fate he'll malfunction with grief"

"Alright, I've been saving this one until now" Wright scrolled down the tablet in search of the offending passage.

" _You have to live, Lionela" James words poured from his lips like warm honey. "Live, if not for me, then for our baby you carry"_

" _I will" Lionela held back a muted cry as she buried her face in his broad chest. Wrapped so tightly in his embrace she knew she felt so safe in his arms. Placing a comforting hand on her belly she raised herself to meet his gaze. "This baby will be a symbol for both our peoples. With this one simple act, we can finally bring about peace"_

Chambers considered her response for a moment. "I think it's pretty clear from this we both have different ideas about where this story is supposed to be heading"

XCOM Rule 697: Stop writing sappy stories based on the XCOM command staff

XCOM Rule 697a: This ban has been extended to include any XCOM personnel

XCOM Rule 697b: No matter how well received the draft was from the publishers or how lucrative the movie deal, it's still banned

XCOM Rule 697c: Even if they've got Johnny Depp to play the Thin Man

XCOM Rule 697d: Even if Dr Vahlen has offered to play the scientist as long as the kiss with Depp is contractually obliged


	12. Operation Reaper what you Sow

Chapter 12: Operation Reaper what you Sow

Sergeant David Hart felt his foot slip out from underneath him, the world around seeming to slow as he felt himself falling. He wasn't sure how long he fell, seeming to enter a state of ceaseless limbo. He struck the ground hard, the world snapped back into focus in an instant.

He felt wet and cold all over, almost certainly the result of whatever unpleasantness he'd had the misfortune of landing in. He tried to pull himself back up on his quivering legs, using his arms for support only to have his right arm give the moment he put even a slight bit of weight onto it. He soon found himself falling back towards the ground. This time before he struck it his descent was arrested, the grasp of hands around his shoulders.

" _Get up, not far now_ " a voice spoke to him, in his ears, inside his head. He couldn't tell the difference.

He felt himself being lifted, pulled back on his feet. " _Come on, almost there_ " the same voice again, urging him to move on.

Through the sting of the sweat in his eyes he could see it, the markers that would see him through to the end. Just a few more steps. One foot in front of the other, left, right, left-

He passed between the bright orange cones which marked the end of the course. In that moment Hart felt the adrenaline that had been sustaining him release in an instant. As the onlookers surrounding them erupted in a chorus of cheers Hart finally allowed his legs give way beneath him. It was only the support of his colleague, Sgt Laika Rawska, that saved him from diving face first into the mud slicked ground.

"Medic!" Rawska called out in an overly dramatic fashion reminiscent of almost every war film in existence, at least those they could still find

A figure emerged from amongst the assembled spectators, XCOM scientist Rachel Halsey. Carrying a well-worn leather satchel, Halsey was an older British woman with a matronly air about her, her long grey hair tied into a neat ponytail trailing behind her.

Halsey knelt down next to her patient, opening her satchel as she began withdrawing her supplies and equipment. "Now then, let's see what the problem is"

Hart was about to protest when he glanced down to see, at what he had first assumed to have just been mud, the large red gash following the length of his arm. The wound continued to still weep blood onto the ground despite his body's attempts to stem the flow.

Dr Halsey donned a fresh pair of gloves and retrieved a wipe from her bag. The faintest touch of the wipe across the exposed wound caused an involuntary hiss to rise up from Harts throat.

"Oh, stop your whining" Halsey chastised. "I once treated a patient with a large piece of jagged stone jammed right into his leg and didn't complain nearly half as much as you"

"Well it's good to have you here doc" Rawska interjected.

"Technically I wasn't a doctor" Halsey corrected as she worked. "I was a Vet. Could you hand me the gauze?"

"Ok, a field medic then" Rawska said, handing the requested item across to her. "What was it, Afghanistan, Iraq?"

"Ascot Raceway" Halsey set about wrapping the gauze tightly around Harts injured arm, never missing a beat even as she maintained the conversation.

When the realisation clicked all the fatigue that had been plaguing Hart suddenly left him. Halsey pre-empted him before he could say it. "I would say now is not really the time to be quibbling over qualifications when I'm the one keeping you from losing your arm"

"Is it really that bad?" Rawska asked.

"If he keeps fidgeting and gets an infection it will be" securing the last of the tape in place Halsey reached across to her bag to prepare a sterile syringe and a vial of clear medicine. "Now, do you want these painkillers or not?" Halsey checked the prepared syringe. "Anymore complaining and I won't even conceal it in a piece of cheese for you"

A nod was all Halsey needed before she administered the drug. Securing the used syringe away for safe disposal she set about clearing up the rest of her equipment. "You'll probably need a few jabs when you get back to the Avenger" Halsey secured the last of her gear into her satchel. "In the meantime, if you experience spasms, drooling, excessive sweating, irritability, breathing difficulty, irregular heartbeat, uncontrolled urination-"

"Don't stop now, I was just starting to enjoy myself" Hart joked.

Halsey could only roll her eyes in despair, once again finding herself yearning for the days when she treated patients who were incapable of making smart arse remarks.

As if to save her from further nonsense the Reaper cell leader stepped out from amongst the assembled crowd of fellow Reapers. A muscled older woman with a thick eastern European accent they knew her only as Ursa, whether a first name or a moniker was left as mere speculation.

"You did well" Ursa considered the two operatives in front of her. "There are not many non-Reapers who can match our times. Now comes the final test"

Ursas instructions were interrupted by a low growl. The three of them turned to be greeted by the sight of a Reaper leading a creature out on a restraining pole secured around its neck.

"That must be some pretty powerful stuff you gave me" Hart remarked. "Because I could have sworn that's a live Chryssalid"

"I see it too" Halsey affirmed.

"You mean it's real!" Hart cried out.

"What the hell is that?" Rawska yelped.

"Your test" Ursa replied flatly.

The XCOM operatives had faced Chryssalids before, they just never expected to find a live Chryssalid here. Rumours had been circulating for years about the Reapers penning Chryssalids, whether for food or for sport. It was jarring to learn first-hand that such rumours weren't always the work of conspiracy theorists and black propaganda.

As the creature was lead closer Ursa withdrew her pistol from her belt and fired a single shot into the Chryssalids skull, the creature fell to the ground with a dull thud. Unsheathing her combat knife Ursa jammed the tip of the blade into the soft muscle connecting the Chryssalids thick carapace, twisting the knife before withdrawing it in a shower of alien blood.

Without hesitation Ursa drove her hand into the open wound, delving almost up to her elbow, seemingly searching for something inside the recently deceased creature. With a sharp pull her arm leapt free, bringing with it some long red organ dripping with alien residue. On a cursory glance, the closest approximation for what the Reaper had just pulled out would be a human intestine.

"This is your final test" Ursa held out the dripping wet organ as if it were some prized treasure. "To become one of us you must eat the still warm heart of your enemy, that you may gain their soul and become imbued with their strength"

"Doc?" Hart asked.

"Chryssalids poison glands are centred around their jaws and their talons" Halsey replied. "Theoretically it should be safe"

That was not what either of them had wanted to hear. Instead of the anticipated 'In my professional medical opinion as _Sea Biscuits_ personal physician, I wouldn't advise it' as opposed to 'Well, you might not die'.

Accepting the offering Rawska held it out between them. Steeling themselves they each took a mouthful out of it together. Neither of them was really sure what to expect of it but a still warm, wet mess was probably about right for something that had once been part of one of the alien invaders.

The sudden eruption of laughter from the surrounding Reapers brought them back to reality pretty quickly. "We were just fucking with you" Ursa said through uncontained howls of enjoyment. "Congratulations, you're both honorary Reapers"

In the end tears, joy and vomiting flowed free and unconfined. It was pretty hard not to bond after an experience like that.

 _XCOM Rule 517: Operatives are reminded that although the resistance factions are our allies and we welcome collaboration, it is not the recommendation of XCOM command that operatives should be participating in unorthodox rituals simply to be polite_


	13. Operation Remembrance

Chapter 13: Operation Remembrance

"We are gathered here today to say goodbye to a dearly departed friend, Nigel" Lieutenant David McCormack stood at the podium at the front of the XCOM briefing room, addressing the assembled crowd come to pay their last respects. "Many of us have known Nigel going back almost to the very beginning of the XCOM project. In that time, we fought side by side with him. We've shared barracks and we shared foxholes, we've shed tears and shed blood together. But we are not here to remember all that we have done, but to remember why we must carry on in his stead. We fight not for gain or personal glory, but to protect the people we know and love. We fight for those who without us would have no home to go back to. And in that regard, I think we can all agree that Nigel was the best among us"

A reserved display of applause rose up from the crowd.

"He was never one to complain. He never wavered in his resolve, never once gave ground to the aliens without making them pay for every bloody step. While he had no known family of his own, I think it's fair to say after all that we have been through together that there isn't a person in this room who wouldn't call him their brother"

McCormack glanced down at the podium. "Now, while it may be unsettling for some, we wanted to provide some closure by playing back the footage of Nigels last moments. I hope this will assure all of you that he gave his life for a worthy cause and shall be remembered forever as a hero"

The main viewscreen activated and the video feed began playing automatically.

 _Two XCOM operatives, an Assault and a Support stood pressed against either side of an open door. One dared to make a fleeting scan of the pitch-black room beyond before darting back into cover behind the wall._

" _Is it clear?" the assault asked._

" _I think so" the support operative replied._

" _Nigel" the assault turned towards the camera, presumably Nigel. "Go check it out"_

 _Nigel simply advanced without a word, passing the threshold into the oily darkness ahead of them. The camera automatically switched to night vision to compensate for the low light. The room beyond was a wreck, the walls scarred by flames long since extinguished and lingering marks of alien weaponry. The room looked to be part of a larger open plan office, the operation taking place at night contributing to the lack of bodies which usually followed in the wake of the alien's attack. Nigel continued to press deeper into the room, passing another row of overturned desks and crossing a floor strewn with papers and files from the-_

 _An explosion erupted in front of the camera, instantly overpowering the sensitive night vision camera and deafening the audio with a primal roar. As the video returned and the audio ceased screeching the feed was turned up towards the ceiling, the operator or at least the camera having been thrown to the floor by the force of the explosion._

 _Muffled curses could be heard over the lingering sounds of the settling debris. "I thought you said it was clear!"_

" _I said 'I think so'!" another voice countered._

" _Bollocks" the first voice cursed again. "Someone grab something to scrape Nigel off the floor"_

The video ended to be replaced by the XCOM insignia.

"Per Nigel's wishes, his body will be donated to support the on-going XCOM programme" McCormack continued. "May he continue to serve faithfully in death as he did in life"

Another mournful round of applause rose from the crowd.

"After a respectful period of mourning, I would like to welcome our newest Strike Team member, Nigel 6.0" at McCormack's que the latest S.H.I.V., fresh from the Foundry, rolled onto the stage to a hail of applause from the gathered crowd.

 _XCOM Rule 476: While XCOM command appreciates the sentiment, holding eulogies for destroyed S.H.I.V.s is considered a bit much_

 _476a: Stop referring to rebuilding damaged S.H.I.V.s as 'reanimating the dead'_

 _476b: Refurbished S.H.I.V.s are not inhabited by the souls of dead aliens seeking vengeance. They will also not start killing during the full moon_

 _476c: Reports of ghostly machines wandering the halls are S.H.I.V.s on assigned security patrol_

 _476d: Can whoever wrote 666 in binary (1010011010) on the wall in motor oil please report to maintenance to be issued a bucket, cleaning fluid and a toothbrush_

 _476d: Please stop repeating the phrase 'There's no such thing as S.H.I.V.s', they are a vital part of XCOMs arsenal_

 _476e: Stop pouring salt around your bunks to keep the S.H.I.V.s away_

 _476f: While XCOM respects the religious beliefs of its staff, brandishing out a crucifix and reciting scriptures when you encounter a S.H.I.V. is not helpful to anyone_

 _476g: Reports of Lt. [REDACTED] being found dead covered in tread marks were an exaggeration. It has since been revealed Lt. [REDACTED] was sleeping off a hangover in the base corridor, across the S.H.I.V.s pre-programmed patrol path_

 _476h: While XCOM values the artistic creativity involved, the creation of a shot for shot remake of 'The War of the Worlds' with the invaders replaced with S.H.I.V.s is not helping_

 _476i: It is not recommended to stop rogue S.H.I.V.s with 'A shot to the head'. In the highly unlikely event of a S.H.I.V. malfunction XCOM operatives are instructed to disable it by any means necessary to minimise casualties before securely transporting it to engineering for analysis_


	14. Operation Move Along

Chapter 14: Operation Move Along, Nothing to See Here

This was not how the operation was meant to go. Sure, the Strike Team had experienced mishaps in the past. Like the time Corporal Lang mistook that fire hydrant for Sectoid and ended up flooding most of downtown Boston. Or the time they accidentally detonated the Elerium Core of a crashed UFO in the centre of Glasgow, causing very nearly £20 worth of damage.

This one, though, would probably top them both. At no point in the history of the XCOM project had an entire Strike Team been apprehended, by the London Metropolitan Police.

This was how the six-person strike team found themselves sat on the edge pavement, their hands bound in front of them with restraints. They were sheltered from the ceaseless rain by the prefab tent the officers had managed to put together after about the 30-minute mark. MEC Trooper Sergeant West probably had the worst of it, being too large to fit underneath the cover they were forced to endure the perpetual downpour with nothing but a smart fedora for shelter.

Despite having disarmed the rest of the team of their weapons and equipment the officers that responded remained unclear on the procedure for properly restraining a 10-foot-tall robot suit. In the end they settled for relinquishing the trooper of their Railgun and having them sit beside the others. Or in reality, asking the MEC to lay the weapon down on the ground as it proved too heavy for any of the officers to carry.

Despite the United Kingdom being a member of the Council the existence of the XCOM project was not public knowledge even amongst many in their own government. The established procedure was that XCOM would be free to autonomously combat the invaders while local law enforcement focused on civilian evacuation and post battle damage control. To avoid any mishaps an emergency dispatch was sent to the government prior to their arrival who then coordinated the efforts of their police and military. But in this instance, it seems something had been overlooked by one side or another.

This lead inexorably to the current situation where, after dispatching another group of aliens landing just outside Leicester Square, attempts to secure the alien tech had to be postponed after the Strike Team were surrounded by local police. XCOM command ordered the Strike Team to stand down while they attempted to make sense of the situation from the Councillor. This was how the Strike Team, once armed with equipment reengineered from alien technology, found themselves being detained by police with standard issue Glock 17 pistols and MP5 submachine guns. That had been an hour ago.

In that time a cordon had been established to keep the ever curious public and news hungry journalists at bay. Someone even tried overtaking the perimeter by flying a UAV overhead, prompting a police sniper to shoot it out of the sky. One MELD enhanced soldier had offered to jump up and grab it but the police officer assumed they were taking the piss.

The situation had not been improved after the police sniffer dogs had reacted to the canisters of MELD. Questioning the Strike Team as to its contents did not improve matters.

After all the time spent waiting for some amount of progress patience was beginning to wear thin. African American operative Sergeant Richard Hunter was the first to chime in. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. I know what this is all about. It's because I'm American isn't it. You're still hung up on the Revolutionary War so now you want to get some payback by setting me up for a long stretch in Strangeways"

"Sir, please" the officer assigned to their watch tried to mediate the situation. "We're just trying to-"

But Hunter wasn't finished yet. "Special relationship my ass. All I'm seeing is that you don't love us no more. You're all like ' _Oh America, we love you_ ', but secretly you're thinking ' _I still ain't forgotten what you did to me_ ' and you've been holding onto that one for a long time. Now you're all like ' _Don't be making eyes at Russia. I know you two used to have that whole love hate thing going on and suddenly you're all best pals together_ '. Well if you're going to be like that, I guess we-"

"Sergeant" Captain Bianca Carver interrupted. "Shut up"

By now the military disposal techs had arrived and begun scanning their equipment as well as the alien remains for signs of dangerous chemicals. The presence of people in blast suits and carrying containment shields did little to deter the onlookers who continued to photograph and film as best they could despite the efforts of the police to contain them.

Such an incident gaining widespread public could quite quickly throw the entire XCOM project into jeopardy. The entire purpose of XCOM was that it served as a multinational effort of each Council member supported on the condition that the project remain independent from direct intervention by the member states themselves. If word got out that one state had interfered or was trying to get the upper hand over the others it could cause other members to abandon the project entirely in protest.

This could have gone on in a similar fashion for who knew how long if an official looking black car hadn't been let through the cordon. Out of the car stepped a well-dressed man who gave every impression of being a spook. Tailor made suit, sharp haircut, air of superiority born from a lifetime of private education.

The well-dressed man approached the Chief Officer overseeing the scene, speaking in a hushed tone before handing the Chief Officer a non-descript envelope. The Chief Officer nodded in reply before moving away to consult with his underlings. This left the well-dressed man to approach the line of XCOM operatives without interruption.

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience" the well-dressed man said as an introduction. "I hope they weren't too rough with you"

"And you would be?" Carver asked on behalf of the rest of the team.

"Bit of a mix up at the Home Office I'm afraid" the well-dressed man continued unabated. "Seems the minister in charge of delivering the memo left his laptop on a train. We've only just retrieved it from the 17:30 out of Kings Cross. Should have expected it really, he hasn't changed much since being my fag at Eaton. Either way, you're free to go now"

The Chief Officer reappeared with several other officers, relieving the XCOM operatives of their restraints before handing back their equipment. The MEC Trooper kindly retrieved their rifle themselves.

"What about the mess this lot caused?" Carver asked, indicating the gathering of police and technical staff illuminated by the police helicopter which had been circling overhead since their arrival.

"I've already been in contact with the Ministry of Meat Products" the well-dressed man assured them. "They'll see it's all taken care of"

"Meat products?" Corporal Samantha Knight asked.

"That's where we manufacture the governments porky-pies" the well-dressed man replied with a smarmy grin.

"That doesn't seem like a particularly well thought out name" Knight countered.

"Well we could hardly call ourselves the 'Ministry of Disinformation'. We tried it once but some chap named Round objected. We were going to name it the 'Department for Nobody Needs to Know', but apparently some people do need to know" the well-dressed man continued. "They'll simply mark it on the official report as CSGM, Consignment of Geriatric Shoe Manufacturers"

"C…S…G- what?" Hunter asked.

"A load of old cobblers" the well-dressed man added helpfully. "Any further requests for information will simply be redirected to the governments 'Not Received File', a handy little tool created to take care of anything that needed to be dealt with discreetly. Keeps things nice and tidy that way"

"And if people keep sending these requests for information?" Knight asked.

"Those requests are also redirected to the 'Not Received File'" the well-dressed man responded. "The senders usually either give up or remain at a manageable level such that widespread panic can be mitigated" the well-dressed man took a glance at his finely crafted watch on his wrist. "I think our business is concluded here, have a safe flight back home" and with that the well-dressed man departed.

But even as the team were lead away to the transport to escort them back to the Skyranger the sense of despair remained palpable in the air. They all knew just how much paperwork was waiting for them when they got back to base. In some ways it made the aliens seem not quite so bad by comparison.

 _XCOM Rule 504: In an effort to mitigate the chance of a repeat of the events in London XCOM communications staff are required to verify the alert message to the appropriate authorities was sent and a response received PRIOR to the Strike Teams arrival at the mission site_

 _XCOM Rule 504a: No, you may not send official communications via Twitter_


	15. Operation Tom, Dick and Harry

Chapter 15: Operation Tom, Dick and Harry

"I'm telling you, I think the plans are off" Corporal Sarah Knight protested.

"What are you talking about?" Corporal Jack Stone responded, yelling to be heard over the sound of the splintering rock and the whirr of industrial engines. "We followed the plans exactly"

"That's what I mean" Knight responded, leaning in closer to be heard over the relentless noise. "We haven't dug nearly far enough to have reached these supposed tunnels yet"

Rumours had been circulating about tunnels hidden not far from the XCOM base. Built during the Cold War, a series of abandoned service tunnels crisscrossed much of eastern Europe, some evening reaching across the border into the former western territories. They were built to serve as combined shelters, communication and transportation routes in the event of a nuclear conflict. The intention was to allow the movement of troops and supplies even if the above ground was little more than radioactive ash.

As the Wall began to collapse, and the prospect of nuclear war seemed less of a possibility, those in power decided to use the long-forgotten tunnels to stockpile weapons, supplies and valuables to be recovered later. In the end, the Wall fell far quicker than any of them had expected, allowing all those who knew of the tunnels to be caught in the collapse.

This left a veritable treasure trove of riches untouched for decades. While most of what there was to find would undoubtedly be outdated or defunct by now it could still have its uses. XCOM could receive the arms and equipment to help fund the project while those who made the find might be free to keep some of the less military oriented finds. Particularly the small, shiny ones.

The discovery of documents containing geological surveys going back to even before XCOM was initiated confirmed their suspicions. Having 'requisitioned' a few pieces of equipment from engineering, Knight, Stone and a few other likeminded individuals set about their work hammer and tongs. Or high-powered laser and industrial movers to be precise.

"I'm telling you, they're off" Knight persisted. "My dad worked down the pit and he always said-"

"Just because your dad was a miner doesn't mean you know any more about tunnelling than I do" Stone retorted.

"I said he worked down the pit" Knight clarified. "He was a surveyor"

"So, he was a miner" Stone replied. "What's the difference?"

"It's better than being a miner" Knight chided. "He taught me a lot of what he did and I'm telling you, it's far too early for us to have dug this far outside the base even with this kind of equipment"

"Gold bars discovered by Knight, zero" Stone retorted. "Gold bars discovered by Stone? Well let's just see" they watched as the S.H.I.V. mounted laser continued to bore through the rock. It wouldn't be long now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Commander" Bradford stood at commander's right hand as they watched the live readout on the Situation Room display. "I'm not sure I agree with this plan"

"It will be fine" the Commander said. "Once work started circulating about some mythical secret tunnel we knew it was only a matter of time before someone tried it. Better this way such that it will cause minimal disruption. How far are they now?"

Bradford checked the readout on his tablet. "Assuming they're keeping to the projected estimates they should be emerging into the cavern within the hour"

"And the security detail is prepared?" the Commander asked.

"Yes, Commander" Bradford replied. "I'm expecting an update from Major Stanton any min-"

A tremendous roar tore through the situation room, followed by an earthly rumbling which seemed to threaten to tear the entire facility asunder. Fearing an alien attack Bradford instinctively reached for the pistol he kept nearby for such eventualities.

A beam of bright red light suddenly erupted from beneath the floor of the situation room, fading away as a section of the floor collapsed away in a thick plume of displaced dust. Out of the thick film they could see the outline of two faces emerging through the hole. The Commander and Bradford soon found themselves staring down at Knight and Stone, each of them covered in varying layers of upturned dust.

Knight was the first to break the lingering silence between them. "Gold bars discovered by Stone?"

 _XCOM Rule 906: Stop digging tunnels under the base!_


	16. Operation The Best'a Pizza in'a Town

Chapter 16: Operation The Best'a Pizza in'a Town

It wasn't what most would describe as your average delivery. Late at night, middle of nowhere, unlisted contact number. This had all the hallmarks of a bad horror film. But, the online payment had gone through so it looked like he was stuck with it.

Suspicions probably should have been raised when they gave grid references rather than an actual address. It happened occasionally, rich idiots camping out decide they can't go a single night without some creature comforts and decide to order take out to the top of a mountain.

Turning off the access road Sam Albright drew his car to a stop at the point his Satnav told him was his intended destination. There was always a little more searching to be done on foot with new addresses, but not usually with grid coordinates. Despite the Satnavs assurances he found himself in the middle of a windswept field with no campsites or customers to be seen.

Stepping out of the car Sam rechecked the order sheet. A set of grid coordinates a few kilometres outside of town and the delivery instructions, _C/O Major Woody and Captain Hook_.

' _Funny, real funny'_

It seemed that some people were so well to do these days they were even willing to pay to get their kicks at someone else's expense. Sam couldn't help but seek to vent his growing frustration by kicking out at a mound of dirt next to his foot. Turns out this was a mistake as the toe of his shoe impacted something unexpectedly solid.

Balancing the pizza in one hand he knelt down and brushed away the top layer of dirt with his free hand. The final pass revealed a dull grey metal dome concealed beneath the surface. Looking closer her could make out a split down the middle suggesting it was not here without purpose. Despite all logic suggesting that any such material left out in the wilderness should be rusted or show signs of wear the entire surface was clean of all but dirt.

"What the-" Sam said aloud before his next moments were consumed by a bright flash of light. He stumbled to cover his eyes. Something struck him in the chest, he hit the ground hard. Darkness overtook him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam felt himself drift awake, sore and groggy. He felt his hands secured behind his back, the makings of a pretty heavy bruise on his right shoulder and in the middle of his torso.

He was sitting in a non-descript room illuminated by a lamp hanging from the ceiling, a metal table in front of him and on the other side sat a woman. She had long brown hair held in a conservative bun and from what he saw above the table she was dressed in a white lab coat and green sweater. She was leaning back casually in her chair, giving only a half-hearted interest in his condition.

"I trust they weren't too rough with you" the woman spoke with a heavy accent, born from somewhere in the region bordering France and Germany.

"Where am I?" Sam asked, a pretty standard first question given the situation.

"Why don't you tell me" the woman shifted to lean closer across the table, hands clasped in front of her. now that he was awake he was being afforded her full attention. "Or better yet, tell me who you're working for?"

"What?" Sam asked in surprise.

"We already know about them all" the woman continued. "NSA, KGB, MI6, RTPI. They're all out there, all trying to get their grubby little mits on our secrets. It's almost amusing how they deny our existence publicly and yet secretly collude with eachother behind closed doors. I guess that is simply the way things are. Whatever answer you give it makes little difference anyway. It would just be nice to know who it was that finally made the first move"

"I don't know what you're talking about" Sam continued to protest his innocence. He knew whatever the truth of his situation it was bound to have negligible effect. Whoever these people were, if they'd gone so far as to lure him away jus to kidnap him there was little chance of them setting him free.

The woman sighed. "Shame really"

She reached underneath the table, coming back up to place some kind of device between the two of them. Sam had never seen it before, all smooth curves and polished metal with a faint glow of green light about it. Its seemingly futuristic aesthetic did little to dampen his on-going fear that the device was no doubt some instrument of interrogation.

"I'm telling you" Sam persisted. "I don't know anything"

"Oh well" the woman sighed in seeming defeat. "It would have been nice to know. I suppose we'll just have to move on to-"

" _That won't be necessary, doctor_ "

The door to the interrogation room opened. A man with close cropped brown hair and dressed in a green sweater stepped in. "Please put down the ear examiner, Doctor"

The woman was heard to curse something underneath her breath before laying the device aside on the table.

The man turned his attention back to Sam. "We were watching you all the way up the access road. You're lucky we managed to deactivate the perimiter in time or we'd be scrapping pieces of you off the side of the mountain" the man leant heavily on the metal table with his hands as shifted himself closer. "So why are you here?"

Sam took a chance that perhaps this guy would be the one to finally believe him. "I'm from Italia Pizza. I got an order and delivered it to the address. That's my job, that's all I did"

"You're a delivery driver" the man replied more as a statement than a question. Either way it was relieving to hear someone else finally say it.

"Yes, thank you" Sam replied, tactfully emitting the addition of 'As if the uniform didn't give it away'. "Your guys took the delivery slip with the address on it, just some coordinates out in the middle of nowhere"

"Anything else?" the man persisted in his inquiry.

"The delivery was from a… 'Woody' and 'Hook'" Sam replied.

"Woody and- of course" the man replied with a knowing sigh. He stepped away to speak into a communicator, his voice low enough that Sam couldn't make out what it was he was saying. Those in the room waited in lingering silence.

They heard movement outside. The door opened.

" _Alright, pizzas here_ "

Another man, tall with tanned skin and a mop of blonde hair dressed in olive t-shirt and combat trousers walked in. His identification badge read Major Harry 'Woody' Woodrow. He was followed closely behind by a woman, shorter with a long red ponytail and dressed in the same olive fatigues. Her ID read Captain Amelia 'Broadside' Hook.

"How much do we owe you for-" Major Woody stopped when he looked aside and noticed the other man standing at his side. He did not look happy. "Ah, Bradford. We can explain"

 _XCOM Rule 298: XCOM has a fully stocked canteen with a wide selection of international dishes. Please stop ordering take away to the base._

 _XCOM Rule 298a: Seriously, this is the fourth delivery guy we've had to detain and it's starting to wear thin._

Rejected ideas for the squad members names were Major Richard 'Dick' Witting, Dr Egmun (Misspelled as Eggman), Major Pratt and Private Browsing (He's seen some shit).


	17. Operation The Doctor will see you Now

Chapter 17: Operation The Doctor will see you Now

The front door to the Bray GPs surgery burst open with a resounding crash. The handful of patients and staff present in the waiting room turned together to be met by the sight of two men dressed in business attire overlaid with military harnesses and equipment.

The leader advanced through the sparsely populated waiting room, those waiting in line clearing the path ahead as the man approached the reception desk.

"Get Doctor O'Malley!" the man ordered by way of introduction to the staff behind the desk.

Seemingly as if summoned by the request, a large man in a doctor's coat with a mop of bright blonde hair stepped out from the back office. His reaction to the disturbance was to merely reply "You know we have a backdoor you could use"

"No time" the leader interrupted. "We have a serious casualty"

Two more of the men emerged through the open door, carrying a third injured man limping between their shoulders. The man was alternating between screams of pain and desperate pants. The source of his anguish was evident as the thigh of the man's left leg was mess of torn fabric, fresh scar tissue and bright red weeping wounds.

Doctor O'Malley let out a dejected sigh at the sight before him. "Bring him in the back" O'Malley motioned towards the treatment room at the rear of the clinic.

The soldiers carried their injured comrade into the back room. O'Malley glanced over at the nurse beside him. "Nurse Bright, send the other patients home and cancel any other appointments. I'm going to be busy for the rest of the day"

Before she could respond O'Malley followed them into the treatment room. "On the table" O'Malley instructed as he moved to sink to scrub up. O'Malley took his place next to the patient on the treatment table. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"XCOM!" one of the other soldiers yelled in a sudden outburst.

"I meant what's wrong with the patient" O'Malley clarified.

"Some kind of new energy weapon" the EXALT leader replied. "I've never seen anything like it before"

"Well, let's take a look" O'Malley moved closer, shifting occasionally to view the wound from a variety of angles. "Severe localised skin burns. No sign of lingering shrapnel or other projectile. Although it doesn't seem alien in origin"

O'Malley stepped away from the patients table in spite of the persistent screams of his patient as the man's comrades struggled to keep him on the table. O'Malley reached into his desk and retrieved a digital camera before returning to the patients table.

"What you doing?" the EXALT operative asked.

O'Malley lined up the camera and snapped a picture of the wound. "Gathering useful intelligence" O'Malley continued his work in spite of the interruption. "I'm sure the lab can make use of this"

"But he's in pain" the operative protested.

"And who is the doctor?" O'Malley questioned, persisting regardless. "He's made it this far, I'm sure he can survive for another thirty seconds while I gather some intelligence"

But the EXALT operative wasn't going to leave it. "You have to treat him-"

O'Malley snapped upright to point a finger at the other EXALT operative. "You" turning his finger towards the one with the mouth. "Take him out back and stand guard"

Despite their clear feelings to the contrary the EXALT operatives left without further objection, leaving O'Malley, the squad leader, the other EXALT operative and the patient in the room. Now that the disturbance had been resolved O'Malley could finally focus on his work. "We'll see what the intelligence unit can make of these" O'Malley lay the camera aside and retrieved his clothing shears. O'Malley started by cutting away the remainder of the man's trouser leg, clearing access to the wound.

O'Malley began removing the strands of fabric that had become burnt into the wound, eliciting a sharp wince or abject scream of pain as each piece was removed. Having removed the sources of infection O'Malley proceeded to clean and dress the remains of the wound.

Stepping back, the doctor appeared satisfied with his work. "I've patched him up as best I can in the short term. But without knowing what kind of weapon we're dealing with I can't confidently say towards the long-term effects" O'Malley removed his gloves with a sharp snap. "He's going to be off duty for a while, make sure that intel has an appropriate cover story in place"

O'Malley moved away to wash his hands and dispose of the remaining waste. "That's quite a shit show you created outside. Put in a request for media suppression. We'll probably have to have a word with the local police as well" O'Malley discarded the waste in the appropriate bin. "Bring him back in after a day to change the dressing or if he gets any worse"

O'Malley moved away to wash his hands in the sink. The EXALT squad leader and his operative helped their comrade onto his one good leg, shuffling across the polished treatment room floor.

O'Malley called after them. "And use the back door next time"

 _EXALT Rule 376: EXALT is a black ops operation, therefore don't go causing a scene around registered facilities_

 _376a: Well done for covering your faces by the way, there's no chance anyone could know who you are after that_


	18. Operation Resupply

Chapter 18: Operation Resupply

Adam Clarke had been working a part time to keep himself in coke and pot noddle while he studied for his mechanical systems degree course, fitting his shifts in around his course for about a year now. That was how he found himself working the night shift at a petrol station just outside Cromer in Norfolk, UK. Most people he worked with hated doing nights and it's not hard to see why; lonely, depressing, hazardous to your sleep patterns, a wreck to your social life and increased chance of being on the receiving end of some kid with a kitchen knife and withdrawal symptoms.

Despite it all there were still some benefits; less oversight by management, fewer customers, more relaxed atmosphere and night tended to be when one witnessed the oddities and farfetched tales that got passed down as stories from part-timer to part-timer. Case in point, tonight.

It wasn't every night your business played host to a group of people in armoured suits and openly carrying heavy machine guns, unless you lived in the US. One look told him those were not the usual cosplayers on their way back from a con, despite what it might seem he was sure this was genuine military gear they were carrying.

At first it was just one of them, a woman with flaming red hair and a dark beret bearing an insignia he didn't recognise. The woman patrolled through the store with a strange looking rifle ready in her arms, seemingly searching for anything she might take as a threat. After she completed her sweep, satisfied that there were no lingering threats lying in wait, she motioned for the others to join them inside. Well, except the one in the giant robot suit. They couldn't fit through the door and were limited to shouting their requests through the opening.

"Alright people, let's make this quick" another of the group, a woman with long brunette hair tied in a neat ponytail. "Big Skys waiting and the meters still running. If Central decides to audit the fuel bill for this trip we'll all be stuck in it"

At her command, the group dispersed throughout the store. One moved towards the side of the door, browsing the sunglasses display. Another of the two started perusing the aisles, throwing a seemingly random selection of drinks and sweets into a basket mounted on the turret of a small, treaded robot. All the while the one giving the orders, presumably their leader, kept close to the counter and maintained a watchful vigil over Adam still behind the desk.

Before they arrived, Adam had been checking the news on his phone and had noticed the internet had been buzzing about some strange occurrences happening up in Edinburgh. Some amateur feeds, some including shaky camera phone footage, even claimed to see aliens fighting humans in armoured suits. What were the chances this lot had something to do with it?

Another of the group, a woman with short black hair, came around the edge of the counter with a handheld computer, raising it up to the camera they appeared to be doing something with the wireless network. Seemingly satisfied with their work they glanced at Adam. "Sorry kid, got to make sure we don't leave any evidence behind". In spite of the rather sinister undertone to that remark, and the arsenal of weapons, the group didn't seem to give off any ill intent.

Further down the shop Adam could just make out a conversation between two of the group, an Australian guy with close cropped dark hair and the larger Russian guy with a mop of bright blonde hair.

"Come on Charge, don't get your snickers in a twist" the Australian remarked.

"You know, I really miss the days when they were called Marathon just so people couldn't make that stupid joke" the Russian replied.

"What about these?" the Australian retrieved a packet of Tim Tams. "You ever try them? Let me guess 'We have no need for your decadent western biscuits, in my country we enjoy Russian treats such as snowball and icicles'"

"Why are people so quick to assume Russia is just snow and turnips?" the Russian asked. "We're one of the world's leading economies"

"Well next time we visit Vladivostok I'm sure you'll be able to prove us all wrong" the Australian replied.

"Can we please save this discussion for the three-hour flight back to base" the leader interjected into the conversation.

At their leader's insistence the group picked up the pace. They hefted the basket from the robot onto the counter laden heavy with sweets, biscuits, drinks, luxury toiletries and entertainment magazines.

"Any fuel with that?" Adam asked. He hadn't meant to sound snarky, it was company policy that he had to ask.

"Just this lot" the leader replied.

Adam began diligently passing the items through the scanner. "Would you like a bag with that, its 5p?"

"I think we can handle it" the leader assured him.

Scanning the final item through the till he checked the amount on the screen. "That's £139.14"

"Alright" the leader turned to her assembled team. "How much we got guys?"

The soldiers began searching their belt pouches, each producing a seemingly random collection of foreign coins and notes. "Pesos, Yen, Roubles. Pounds, here you go" the leader handed across £150 in assorted notes. "Keep the change"

As the assembled group started carrying out their purchases the leader continued to linger beside the counter. "One last thing" she leant over the counter, her gaze never faltering from his own. "If anyone asks, your shift was entirely normal. Nothing odd about us at all, right?"

Adam nodded vigorously in reply.

"Good" she reached into her pocket and removed some kind of chit with a symbol like 2 entwined S's, sliding it across the counter towards him. "Make sure you keep this safe, that's going to pay for your tuition someday" with the final word she departed after the rest of her team.

Not what one would call an entirely conventional shift.

 _XCOM Rule 476: Operatives are forbidden from making unscheduled diversions for snacks or souvenirs during operations._

Next time we see XCOM attempt to order drive-thru chicken in a Firestorm.


	19. Operation Use the Force

Chapter 19: Operation Use the Force

The Commander pinched the bridge of their nose tightly between their fingers. The act served as a last-ditch effort to keep themselves awake as they read and reread the previous page of the report hoping the information would finally sink in enough for them to retain it.

At this point it seemed like a hopeless effort and they allowed their hand to fall to the desk, their tablet slipping from their open hand onto the desk. What they wouldn't give for the old pen and paper system at times like these, at least then there was some catharsis to be had from tearing the report to shreds when you were finally done with it. No such luck with modern tablets, the replacement costs were proving too great to justify to the Council.

Checking their watch, the Commander noted that it was time to report to the Situation Room for the regular readiness review meeting. The reality was that most of the meetings served as little more than an opportunity for the XCOM statisticians to delve into immense detail regarding the logistics of XCOMs world spanning operations in an effort to continue justifying their departments funding. Still, anything had to be better than reading any more reports.

Rising from their desk the Commander checked their pistol at their belt, a habit quickly adopted after the alien's raid on the base necessitated a certain level of increased awareness. Dr Shen and his team had done an outstanding job in the construction, creating a custom-built plasma pistol with a grip moulded specifically for the Commanders hand. Nothing but the best for the Commander they had insisted.

Stepping out of their quarters the Commander was met by their detail of two XCOM security guards, another operating procedure instigated in the wake of the attack. The difference today was that rather than the usual navy-blue uniforms standard to internal security personnel these soldiers were dressed in white armour with black trim and face concealing helmets. There was no established uniform for XCOM security personnel, allowing for a certain degree of personalisation, this was still unexpected.

Putting it aside, the Commander stepped behind their escorts and began walking down the familiar corridor towards the situation room. As the neared the end of the corridor one of the escorts stopped suddenly in their step. Fearing an attack, the Commander reached for the pistol at their hip-

"Look sir, droids" the soldier raised their hand to point further down the corridor, watching as a formation of S.H.I.V.s rolled past the intersection.

Once more setting the bizarre occurrence to one side the Commander continued their walk towards the Situation Room unabated, that was at least until they were met by two figures approaching from down the corridor. Dressed in long brown robes their faces were concealed beneath the shadows cast by their deep hoods. The guards called for them to stop.

"Halt, identify yourselves" the guard raised his hand to stop them.

One of the figures peered out from beneath their hood. "You don't need to see our identification" the figure said with an ethereal pass of their hand in front of them.

"We don't need to see their identification" the guard responded monotone.

"We aren't the ones you're looking for" the figure continued.

"They aren't the ones we're looking for" the guard repeated.

"We can go about our business" the hooded figure said.

"You can go about your business" the guard said.

"Move along" the figure said.

"Move along" the guard stepped aside, waving the pair of them past.

The Commander wasn't certain whether the display had been an act and what was genuine Psionic influence. As they continued towards the Situation Room the Commander secretly hoped that George Lucas never found out about this. The classified nature of the project made such an eventuality unlikely. Still, they were not eager to be summoned to Disney vs XCOM. Disney had some pretty frightening legal clout, in some ways scarier than the aliens.

Entering the Situation Room, the Commander found the logistical heart of XCOM awash with so many odd-looking creatures they were almost tempted to reach for their pistol. Among them was an orange creature with face tentacles, another portly blue thing with wings and a long snout, even a green figure with head tails and an outfit which almost certainly was not regulation. It came to something when the most normal looking one in the room was the guy dressed head to toe in green armour with a rocket strapped to their back.

The Commander was lead towards their seat in the Commanders chair overlooking the Situation Room. It seemed that in the time since the last review meeting the chair had gained certain new additions. Of greatest note, was the XCOM projects Chief Scientist Dr Vahlen knelt down beside the command chair. She was dressed in a gold tinted bikini and accompanying chain secured to a collar around her neck.

"Count yourself lucky they couldn't find one that fit Bradford" Dr Vahlen remarked as a way of greeting to the Commander.

The Commander took a seat in their command chair as the presentation began.

"Thank you all for assembling" Operations Officer Jacob McKnight presided over the meeting. "First item on the agenda, a request from Workshop 6-A for the allocation of additional technical staff. Their justification is that it is necessary to achieve the latest production quota. Any objections?"

"Significant funds have already been allocated to the engineering department" Researcher Alexandria Hart interrupted, sitting to the side of the room dressed in the same chestnut brown robes as those they had passed earlier. "While at the same time the research labs have been operating with out of date software for months"

"Engineering have put forward this request before and their production facilities are critical to the success of XCOMs operations" Communications Officer Pritchard interjected. "Given their importance to the project we should not be so quick to dismiss them. If we strike them down, they may prove far more powerful than we could possibly imagine"

"Noted" McKnight replied. "Moving onto the next item on the agenda. The research departments proposal for the design of a new aircraft navigational system utilising the Earths gravitational field" McKnight glanced down at his tablet. "The design document simply reads ' _The Force shall guide us_ '"

"Once more you see the vanity of the science team even as Engineering is denied their rightful place" Engineer Richards protested from across the room, dressed in the same cloak tinted to a jet-black colour.

"It is the path of Science that shall lead us" Hart countered. "If science is to take that place at the expense of engineering then so it shall be"

"Then it seems we are at an impasse" Richards declared. "We must settle this matter that has gone unresolved between us for too long!"

"That we shall" Researcher Hart replied.

Hart reached beneath her cloak and withdrew a device, a prototype stun baton the research team had originally used to demonstrate the Arc Thrower technology. The long shaft glowed with a deep blue light of arcing electricity. Richards reached beneath his cloak to withdraw a similar weapon, although his had been modified to glow with a deep red colour.

Hart was the one to make the first move, lunging into the strike Richards deflected the attack with the edge of his baton. Richards moved to initiate his counter, sweeping forwards only to be met by open air as Hart dodged his attempt to retaliate.

Hart stepped back to gain some ground between them. Richards made his next attempt, driving for another decisive blow even as Hart swept past his attack with almost unnatural speed. It soon dawned on the both of them that they were too evenly matched to overcome their opponent in open combat. Instead, Hart chose to unleash her secret weapon.

Hart readied her power from deep inside of her, the product of MELD enhancement empowered her skin with a powerful electric current. When directed in the correct manner the mutation gave the effect of projecting lightning from one's fingers when close to an appropriate conductor similar to a Faraday Cage. While not strong enough to act as an offensive weapon the display created an exciting light show for those who witnessed it.

Hart used the momentary distraction to climb up onto the holoprojector platform, the hologram dispersing and reforming as the surface was perpetually broken.

"It's over, I have the high ground!" Hart declared.

Richards maintained his stance, his weapon raised and ready. "You underestimate my power"

Richards countered with his own unique ability, utilising the product of the research departments work against them, using a MELD enhanced jump to leap over his opponent to land on the far side of the holo-platform. Richards prepared to deliver the surprise attack against his opponents open back. Hart turned to face him, their batons striking and sparking off of eachother as they fought for control. That proved the final straw.

The Commander raised themselves from their command chair. "Alright everyone, very funny" the Commanders voice projected across the Situation Room, the two combatants turning to face the Commander. "While I appreciate that a lot of effort has clearly gone into this I'm sure I don't need to remind you all that we still have a war with an alien invasion to win. So, if we can get this all cleaned up and return to the normal duties of saving the Earth it will be very much appreciated"

Without protest, the non-essential personnel dispersed while those others set about resuming their normal duties at the array of consoles and workstations around the Situation Room. The Commander retook their seat at the command chair. The Commander glanced over at Dr Vahlen still seated beside them. Despite the position of responsibility she held within the XCOM project and knowing how bad it would look, the opportunity was too good for them to pass up.

"Doctor, may I?" the Commander asked.

Dr Vahlen couldn't help but roll her eyes before handing over the end of the chain to the Commander. The Commander allowed themselves a certain indulge in the sin of pride at the sight before him. It's good to be the Commander.

 _XCOM Rule 1138: All XCOM staff are prohibited from undertaking extended parodies of popular sci fi series while on duty._

 _1138a: These aren't the rules you're looking for._


	20. Operation Exponential Growth

Chapter 20: Operation Exponential Growth

Although there were few natural indicators of time inside the base, no light or noises emanating from outside, the corridors of the XCOM always fell eerily quiet as night fell. Despite a 24-hour watch to respond to alien sightings around the world most non-critical staff came off duty during the night. The research and engineering teams used the time to run experiments, computer models and computer aided manufacturing processes overnight.

The internal layout of XCOM is compartmentalised with base staff having access to the shared communal areas as well the specific departments relevant to their assigned duties. The exception was the security team, including Strike Team operatives, who had unrestricted access to all sections of the base, including the research wing.

"You're sure it's here?" Lieutenant Frances Dunois asked.

"Of course, where else would they be keeping it?" Captain Alicia Fisher responded as they entered the Genetics Lab, the personal playground of XCOMs resident mad scientist Dr Vahlen. The moment they entered the two operatives found themselves bathed in the dim orange light radiating from the stasis tanks that lined the far wall.

"And you're sure there are no cameras in here?" Dunois asked.

"You know there might still be" Fisher replied off handily. "Wouldn't that be exciting"

Although the security had unrestricted access to the lab itself such privileges did not extend to the secure cabinets holding a multi-coloured rainbow of flasks and containers.

The two operatives took a moment to admire the most prominent example inside the container, MELD, the alien substance which had accelerated human development of Cybernetic and Genetic enhancements that were far beyond anything humanity had ever devised on its own. To add to the uniqueness this particular sample, in place of the usual encrypted holographic lock, was secured by a physical key lock. In spite of using some of the most advanced cryptographic systems in existence there was always the possibility of such locks being hacked. Sometimes the best defence was the old-fashioned solution.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Fisher asked. "I could get a laser rifle but that risks putting this whole base into orbit"

"I suspected this might happen" Dunois interjected. Reaching into her back pocket she withdrew a curved set of tools and wordlessly set about working on the troublesome obstruction.

"And you just have those to hand, do you?" Fisher asked

"I used to contend with these kind locks back when I…" Dunois faltered. "When I lead a different life"

"We all have our histories" Fisher said.

"Did yours involve robbing the second largest bank in Paris using only a fountain pen and a trained Ferret?" Dunois asked with a tone suggesting that she was entirely serious.

Before Fisher could require her answer, the lock released with a metallic click. The cabinet swung open on its hinge, bathing the pair in the intensity of its bright orange glow. "Are you sure it's safe to handle?" Dunois questioned. "I tend to distrust things that glow on their own"

Fisher could only summon and exacerbated look at her companion. "Well it's a bit late to be asking now"

Reaching inside Fisher grasped the canister firmly in her hands and lifted it free of its supporting, carrying it with the utmost care to lay it out on the workbench in front of her. In spite of her care Fisher continued to operate under the assumption that about the device was ready to explode at any minute, which it may very well do. Only once she had daintily set it down on the laboratory bench did she allow herself to breathe again.

"Right" Fisher looked across at Dunois. "Let's do this"

Without hesitation Fisher reached down to pull off her olive drab top, revealing her flat muscled torso born from years of physical training. Dunois was quick to follow in her step.

"So how do you want to do this?" Fisher asked. "We each take turns or…?"

"How about you cup your hands and I'll pour some out for you" Dunois replied.

Fisher did as instructed while Dunois worked on opening the top of the canister. Lifting it gently Dunois poured it into her partners cupped hands despite losing some in the process. Fisher was quick to slather it to her chest before she could lose anymore. She felt a shiver cascade down her spine at the touch of the cold against her skin, slathering the stuff across her chest in a wet mess.

"Now do me" Dunois requested, mimicking her hands cup in front of her.

Fisher retrieved the canister and poured the solution into her partners hands. Dunois eagerly began spreading it across her chest as soon as she had an ample amount. The tinge of regret was instantaneous as she realised quite how cold it was. "Merde, that's cold"

Yet despite the unpleasantness she persisted. "You really think this will work, it'll make us bigger?" Dunois asked.

"If Traynors any indication it'll be a classic Grinch and we'll grow three sizes this day" Fisher continued massaging her own chest.

"Frankly, I'd be happy with just a size and half" Dunois continued until she felt she had an even application across her entire chest. "So how long does it take?"

"I'm not sure" Fisher admitted. "But considering she went up overnight I'd expect it to be pretty rapid"

"Sounds more like something out of Alice in Wonderland" Dunois replied. Despite Fishers assertions tense moments continued to pass with little to show for them but wet stains on her cargo pants and some very cold nipples. "You know, I can't help but feel like someone is taking the-"

" _Good evening ladies"_

Fisher and Dunois turned to see Dr Vahlen appear on the computer terminal across the laboratory. "I see you decided to go ahead with your plan"

"Dr Vahlen?" Dunois asked. "How did-"

"You're not really as subtle as you think" Vahlen took a sip of her coffee before laying the mug aside. "Needless to say, I'm afraid that what you have in that canister will not have the desired effect"

"What about Traynor and her-" Fisher tried to protest.

"I am afraid that Research Specialist Traynors ample assets are simply the product of genetics and the random hand of fates divine touch" Vahlen replied. "And a push up bra"

"I knew it!" Dunois asserted.

"So wait, did we just smear this stuff all over ourselves for no reason?" Fisher was the first to vocalise their shared concern. "Is it dangerous to have this on us?"

"Disregarding the potential health detriments of MELD application, I believe you'll find that particular substance to hold a remarkable similarity to the orange gelatine that was served in the canteen yesterday" Vahlen said with a growing smirk.

Dunois and Fisher peered down at their chests together.

"You've got to be kidding me" Fisher moaned.

"I'm afraid that there are worse things you should be concerned with" Vahlen clarified, glancing over at her screen beside her. "For instance, opening that containment chamber has triggered a security alert. The automated systems response is to dispatch S.H.I.V.s armed with ARC throwers to subdue the intruders"

"Seems a bit of an overreaction over some gelatine" Dunois bemoaned.

The soft whirr of engines could be heard advancing from down the corridor outside. The first sight as the robots emerged into the laboratory were of the sparking contacts of their charged ARC throwers.

Dunois offered a final attempt at self-preservation. "Don't tase me bro!"

 _XCOM Rule 20: No, the science team will not use MELD to make it/them bigger._


	21. Operation Difference Between Science

Chapter 21: Operation Difference Between Science and Screwing Around

XCOM-TST-04W2

XCOM Research and Development Department - Test Summary Report

Author: Technician David Lockwood

Subject: Field Test of 'Electric Feet' Magnetic Boot Prototype

Test Procedure: XCOM-TSTP-04W3

Date of Test: 20th September 2035

Test Status: Failure. Severe injury sustained. Minor damage to prototype.

Abstract: Following successful laboratory testing of the magnet boots prototype (Refer to Test Summary Report XCOM-TST-04W1 for further details), hereafter referred to as the 'prototype', field testing was undertaken.

The testing of the prototype was undertaken while the AVENGER was landed and under uncontrolled field test environmental conditions. Overall responsibility of the test was assigned to Senior Engineer Adrian Roberts. Test Subject was Sergeant Robin Taylor, hereafter referred to as the 'Operator'.

The prototype was prepared by XCOM engineering staff Technician David Lockwood and Technician Samantha Collins. Operator was assisted into the prototype and post installation checks were carried out.

Operator activated the prototype and confirmed no issues. Operator confirmed the power source to be operational and within normal parameters. Operator began a vertical ascent of the exterior hull of the AVENGER. At an estimated six feet from ground level Operator reported no issues and continued his ascent. At an estimated ten feet above ground level Operator reported a malfunction of the prototype.

Shortly after, the prototype became detached from the hull and caused the Operator to fall the estimated ten feet to ground level. Technical staff present attended to the Operator, reporting him to be conscious but complaining of severe pain in the back and groin.

Operator was immediately taken to the infirmary for medical treatment. Dr Amanda Albright diagnosed his condition as: Vertebral Fractures, Posterior Rib Fractures, Testicular Hematoma. (Refer to patient medical records for further details ACCESS RESTRICTED, AUTHORITY OF XCOM PHYSICIAN DR. AMANDA ALBRIGHT).

Overall cause of the failure is currently under investigation. The prototype has been quarantined and all further testing has been suspended until the conclusion of the investigation. (Refer to XCOM-TST-04W3 for a summary of the investigation).

Preliminary recommendation for rework of prototype: Try bigger magnets?

Appendix: Refer to tape TST-0095/2035-09-20 for video recording of test.

END OF REPORT

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XCOM-ANL-07Q5

XCOM Research and Development Department - Analysis Summary Report

Author: Researcher Adrianne Cunnings

Subject: Investigation into use of Acoustic Warfare Solutions (AWS)

Abstract: Several proposals were made for the use of audio signals in XCOM operations in both offensive and support roles. Historic examples of use of music in warfare include both the use for inspiration of one's own troops and the demoralisation and intimidation of the enemy. Refer to XCOM historical archives for subject 'When Johnny Comes Marching Home', 'Ride of the Valkyries', 'Horns of Jericho' for examples.

Conclusion: While an improvement in morale is noted for off duty personnel the broadcasting of recorded music during operations is not compatible to XCOMs current role as a black ops organisation. Additionally, contrary to anecdotal evidence use of the song ' _Stayin' Alive_ ' does not provide any repeatable evidence of improved medical outcomes during complex surgeries.

END OF REPORT

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XCOM-ANL-09S6

XCOM Research and Development Department - Analysis Summary Report

Author: Technician Sian Devereux

Subject: Investigation into use of Viper Infiltration Unit (VIU)

Abstract: Based on analysis of Dr Vahlens experiments with the Viper King, an investigation was undertaken for the creation and deployment of a Viper Infiltration Unit (VIU). The VIU is a mechanical, autonomous unit based on the likeness of earths snake species intended for reconnaissance and infiltration of Viper dense regions.

Development of the prototype was based on historical archive footage of scientists using robotic units disguised as animals for the observation of wild animal groups. A prototype unit was designed and laboratory tested to be capable of autonomous movement in a variety of terrains, provide real time intelligence and mimic the behaviour patterns of earth snakes.

The VIU prototype was released outside the AVENGER for field testing. Initial results were promising but testing was abruptly halted after the VIU was set upon by a wild mongoose. XCOM technical personnel were able to capture the interfering mongoose and are currently awaiting retrieval of some of the VIUs components for analysis.

Conclusion: Further refinement of design required.

END OF REPORT

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XCOM-ANL-56W7

XCOM Research and Development Department - Analysis Summary Report

Author: Technician Lin Xiao Long

Subject: Development of Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW)

Abstract: XCOM weapons development were tasked to create a Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) to allow Support strike team members to provide additional firepower on the battlefield. The original concept was to be based on the existing standard assault rifle with the addition of fully automatic firing capability.

While initially promising in the laboratory attempts to use the weapon under combat conditions have resulted in a considerable number of misfires and malfunctions. It has been noted in the after-action reports that some strike team members have taken to referring to the prototype as the 'Bob Marley'.

Conclusion: Further development to be suspended.

Addendum: Senior strike team members have expressed exasperation in having to explain the reference to younger recruits.

END OF REPORT

 _XCOM Rule 282: Contrary to popular belief the phrase 'Throw science at the wall and see what sticks' is not a viable research philosophy._


	22. Operation Name-Drop

Chapter 22: Operation Name-Drop

"Right, now I have called this meeting of the XCOM Public Relations Department because we have a problem" Operations Officer Mike McCall sat at the head of the briefing table, addressing the rest of his assembled team. "The reality we have to face is that despite significant gains in the intelligence gathering and opposition to ADVENTs operations the reality is that some aspects of our recruiting and our counter-propaganda have been underperforming recently. I am of course referring to the naming conventions used for our operations"

There was a hushed mumbling from the assembled team.

"The directive from Central Officer Bradford is that future operations need to take into account more public friendly monikers in order to resonate with the average citizen" McCall explained. "It's felt that our current naming conventions have been lacking in this regard"

"Like what?" Operations Technical Gary Armstrong asked.

"Well, for example, what about when we were tasked to eliminate that senior administrator at the ADVENT security bureau?"

"What, 'Operation Early Retirement'?" Operator Kelly Abrams asked.

"Yes" McCall affirmed. "It doesn't exactly speak to us being the protectors of humanity. Or the time we attempted to meet a resistance contact in a nightclub and ended up burning the place down in a firefight with ADVENT responders"

"You mean, 'Operation Disco Inferno'?" Armstrong asked.

"Yes" McCall agreed. "And let's not even start on the thinking that went into the operation to destroy the ADVENT naval base in Vladivostok"

"Oh yes" Abrams interjected. "We had quite a lot of fun coming up with 'Operation Asleep with the Fishes'"

"What was that one we came up with last month?" Armstrong asked. "When we were searching for all those Faceless infiltrators"

"Operation Whack a Mole" Abrams answered.

"Which is why we need to rethink our philosophy regarding how we identify our operations" McCall steered the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"What are you suggesting?" Armstrong asked.

"You do realise one wants to learn that someone they knew gave their life for success of 'Operation Cuddle Bunny'" Abrams challenged.

"Which is not what we're saying" McCall replied. "The directive is simply to avoid any further PR disasters. Moving on" McCall retrieved another digital tablet from the table beside him. "A planned raid on an ADVENT supply convoy travelling from New London to the ADVENT winter resort on the Faroe Islands. Any suggestions?"

"Operation Smash and Grab?" Armstrong offered.

"If we're intercepting it over south east England, maybe Operation One Foot in the Gravesend?" Abrams offered.

"You said the convoy was heading for the ADVENT resort on a deserted island?" Armstrong asked. "Perhaps 'Operation Lord of the Undone Flies'"

"Operation Norfolk in Chance" Abrams interjected.

McCall shook his head and resigned himself to yet more of this nonsense.

 _XCOM Rule 534: All designations for XCOM operations are to be approved by the XCOM command staff prior to use in official documentation._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Other considered ideas for Operation names:

Attack on an ADVENT financial centre

Operation Shower of Gold

Attack on ADVENT Geological and Genetic Research Centre

Operation Rock and Roar

Evacuation of an XCOM safehouse in an Indian curry restaurant

Operation Fire in the Hole

Operation Tribute to Johnny Cash

Narrowly beating Operation Ring of Fire


	23. Operation XCOM Lark

Chapter 23: Operation XCOM Lark

 _Ladies and Gentlemen, we present the XCOM Lark with our three stars Dennis Price, John Pertwee and Leslie Phillips._

 _We all have our problems in life. But for Commander Shaw, Council overseer of the XCOM initiative, his can all be summarised by a certain project hidden underground out of view of his satellites. What makes the situation even more maddening is that even though he can't see they're up to something, he knows they are._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Commander Povey here to see you sir" the aide spoke over Shaw's communicator sitting open on his desk.

"Oh lord, what does Old Thunderguts want now?" Shaw asked aloud.

"I'm sorry sir?" the aide queried.

"I mean, did Commander Povey give any indication as to the reason for his visit?" Shaw was quick to clarify.

"No, Old Thunderguts didn't say so" the aide replied.

"Very well, send him in" Shaw ordered.

"Yes sir" the aide replied.

"Wonder what sort of monumental clanger I've got myself in for this time" Shaw mused.

The door to Commander Shaw's office opened, in stepped the large frame of Commander Povey. "Good morning Shaw" Povey said by way of introduction. "I've come about this requisition form you submitted to my office which I can only assume was some form of ill-conceived joke"

"Well-" Shaw attempted to interject.

"I happen to take my duty to the Council rather seriously" Povey continued unabated. "And I was in two minds about whether to pass this along to the Captain to let him take whatever action he saw fit. However, I try to be a fair man, so I've decided to see if you have some sort of reasonable explanation first"

"The thing is-" Shaw added.

"So, what have you got to say for yourself?" Povey finished.

"Um, good morning Povey" Shaw replied cheerily.

"Oh, never mind good morning" Povey dismissed. "What about this ridiculous indent form you sent to my office?"

"Well I want a jeep to take me to inspect the XCOM facility on Friday" Shaw clarified.

"Really? Well from the way you filled out my form I would never have known" Povey replied.

"Like what?" Shaw asked.

"Well take a look at this one" Povey reached into his jacket and retrieved the tablet with the offending requisition. "Reason for why vehicle is requested: It's too flaming far to walk"

"Well it is" Shaw assured him.

"But in the next section you really excelled yourself. 'How long do you expect to be after departure: About 5' 10" as usual'" Povey returned the tablet to his jacket pocket. "That being said, it has become rather something of a moot point. I've just been informed of a change which makes such a request unnecessary"

"Why is that, Povey?" Shaw asked.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"It is to be an auspicious time" Lieutenant Price announced from his place sitting behind his desk. "Today is the day one of the great and good shall be bidding farewell to this place"

"Oh, really sir, what time is your leaving party?" asked Sub-lieutenant Phillips standing in front of him.

"Not me" Price was quick to clarify. "It's Commander Shaw's last inspection and I'm sure he'll be eager to perform a thorough review prior to handing over to his successor"

"Chief Operations Officer Pertwee won't like that at all" Phillips interjected.

"Well then Chief Operations Officer Pertwee will just have to lump it" Price responded. "He never quite seemed to grasp the idea that the purpose of project stores is to equip the project. This as opposed to being one big department store of which he is the sole proprietor. Commander Shaw has expressed particular interest in reviewing our air fleet. I expect he would be less than impressed for his last inspection to be presiding over a few bits of scrap metal, an old revolver and a Chief Operations Officer"

"In that case I best get down there and make sure we still some" Phillips replied.

"Very good" Price agreed. "And I don't know what it is or what it may be, but I suggest that whatever it is you instruct Officer Pertwee to stop it, to hide it AND put it back"

"I'll be sure to make it clear, sir" Phillips replied as he hurried out of the office towards the stores.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Things had not exactly turned out how he had expected for Squaddie Adam Johnson. Out of all the tasks in all the departments in XCOM assisting in the stores was not what Johnson had expected to be assigned to.

Johnson knocked on the door to the stores.

"Stores closed, try again tomorrow. Goodbye!" was the reply which came from the other side of the door.

"It's Squaddie Johnson" Johnson called out.

"I don't care if its King Kong, bugger off!"

"I've got to report here" Johnson clarified.

The door to the stores opened. "On whose authority?" Pertwee asked.

"Number One, Chief" Johnson said. "He says I'm to help you in the stores"

"That's where you're wrong, Johnson" Pertwee retorted. "In these stores Chief Pertwee helps himself"

"Yeah" Johnson laughed. "The other guys in my squad told me about you"

"Oh yeah" Pertwee inquired. "What did they say?"

"Watch him" Johnson replied flatly.

"And too right you should" Pertwee said. "Because horrible little Squaddies that get on the wrong side of Chief Operations Officer Pertwee are liable never to be heard from again. Except in tiny bits"

Pertwee ushered Johnson inside the stores.

"Well if you're going to be here you might as well make yourself useful" Pertwee dug through the stacks of digital tablets he had piled on his desk. "Take this and deliver those crates of laser rifles down to dispatch" Pertwee handed across the tablet and pointed to the crates stacked against the bulkhead. "They're en-route to Clapped Out Film Studios"

"Is that another XCOM store?" Johnson asked.

"You could say that" Pertwee replied. "In fact, if anyone asks, it is. I've come to a little arrangement with the Director to supply the special effects for his production"

"Are you sure that's safe?" Johnson asked. "Aren't these rather dangerous?"

"They may be if the power cells on them weren't so worn they're now little more than laser pointers" Pertwee assured him. "Just don't look directly at them when they fire, and you should be fine"

"Ah, good morning Chief" Phillips voice carried in from the entrance to the stores.

"Ah, Mr Phillips sir" Pertwee greeted the Sub-Lieutenant.

"You're getting careless Chief; the door was left open" Phillips said. "Usually you need six keys, a passcode and a battering ram just to get in"

"Well, Squaddie Johnson must have left it open" Pertwee stared daggers across at Johnson.

"I'd be more careful, Johnson" Phillips warned. "Otherwise you're liable to suddenly disappear, never to be heard of again, except in tiny bits" Phillips turned to Pertwee. "Now Chief, an inspection party is due in tomorrow and Commander Shaw has expressed particular interest in our aircraft fleet"

"We have an aircraft fleet?" Johnson asked. "I've never seen any"

"And neither has anyone else" Phillips clarified. "We used to have quite a lot of it at one point. It was about the time you were assigned to the project wasn't it Chief?" Phillips looked across with a knowing look. "Have them ready for inspection at 1600 this afternoon" Phillips departs the stores. "Grand morning isn't it"

"Yeah, grand morning" Pertwee bemoaned, returning to his desk. "Now where did they go, where did I send them?"

"You trying to remember what operations they're assigned on?" Johnson asked.

"Something like that" Pertwee clarified. "Let's see. One of them's doing package tours over the South Pacific. My uncles got another one at his flying school in Iceland. Then there's one doing crop dusting in Micronesia. Now, the Skyranger, where's the Skyranger? Ah, I remember"

Pertwee accessed the secure communication line.

"Herbert Pertwee, Pertwee Logistics" came the voice on the line. "How may we help-"

"Oi, Monkey" Pertwee spoke. "It's Johnsy. Look, I've got to have that transport back"

"It's just off on a job delivering a shipment" Monkey replied. "It won't be back for hours"

"It will if you do a low fly pass over the runway and open the back" Pertwee suggested.

"But there's six tonnes of industrial rubber in it" Monkey replied.

"No problem" Pertwee assured him. "It'll bounce"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Phillips glanced up from his terminal to be greeted by the sight of Lieutenant Price as he returned from his pre-inspection in the hanger.

"How did the inspection go, sir?" Phillips greeted.

"Irregular would be an understatement" Price took his seat at his desk. "In the space of the first five minutes I noted the faint smell of pesticides, a student's handbook in Icelandic and leaflets advertising the top sights to visit in Peru. But I'm afraid that isn't the half of it. I'm officially initiating a Code Dumbo, pilots dropped their magic feather"

"Why's that sir?" Phillips asked.

"We're missing a Firestorm" Price replied.

"Really, sir?" Phillips queried.

"Yes, and for once I'm not sure Officer Pertwee knows where it is either" Price clarified. "When I pointed out to him we were one short he seemed genuinely surprised"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where is it? Where's it got to! That's what I want to know" Pertwee bemoaned as he continued to pace the length and breadth of the stores office. "It can't have just flown off all on its own. I hate to say it Johnson, but it seems someone round here, is dishonest"

"Are you sure you didn't lend it to anyone?" Johnson asked by way of contribution to the situation.

"Watch your tongue" Pertwee chided. "Officer Pertwee never lends anything, he rents them at affordable prices. But never that one. I always make sure to keep at least one on hand, that way everyone just assumes the others out for refit or training or something. So how could I have lost one?"

"Well to be fair it is a stealth aircraft" Johnson replied.

"It could be anywhere" Pertwee continued to pace ceaselessly.

"Can't we just say it was out chasing a UFO contact?" Johnson asked.

"Great idea" Pertwee replied coarsely. "And where exactly are we going to procure the UFO wreckage to explain that? If we admit we let one of those things escape, we'll have had it"

"We could just say it was a weather balloon" Johnson suggested.

"Same problem" Pertwee replied. "They'll have us filling out endless forms until the Council can be convinced it really was just a weather balloon. They'll then arrange a subcommittee to debate whose weather balloon it was and who needs to chip in for the wear and tear costs"

"Well couldn't we request another one be flown in from another facility?" Johnson asked. "Mark it as a training exercise"

"That'll take weeks to arrange" Pertwee countered. "We'll never be able to-" An idea emerged into Pertwees mind in an instant. "But there's nothing to say we can't just BUILD one ourselves"

"Build one?" Johnson asked.

"I'm not saying it needs to fly anywhere" Pertwee replied. "Get a notepad"

Johnson searched the assorted clutter for a blank tablet.

"Right, what do we need" Pertwee considered. "Fuselage, Elerium Core, Navigation Display, assorted alloys…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Commander Povey inspected his watch as the jeep turned onto the dirt track leading deeper into the rugged hillscape.

"I really don't see what you were so concerned about Commander Shaw" Povey said. "We've made good time, and everything seems to be in order thus far"

"Well they haven't shot at us yet" Shaw replied offhandedly, sitting in the seat beside him.

"Haven't SHOT at us?" Povey asked, dumbfounded. "What the blazes are you talking about?"

"They call it 'Gunnery Practice'" Shaw explained. "It's pretty dangerous too, they're damn bad shots"

"Then it's about time an officer who knew what he was doing took charge here" Povey replied.

"He might know what they were doing on the way in, but I guarantee he won't on the way out" Shaw said.

"We'll just have to see won't we" Povey assured him, only stiffened in his resolve to get to the bottom of what had been going on here.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Come on Johnson" Pertwee encouraged. "Just one more panel and then you can have your breakfast"

Johnson heaved, slumping heavily against the wall as his feet finally gave out beneath him. "I can't go on" he moaned breathlessly.

"Nonsense" Pertwee countered. "Just a few more panels and then you can start loading the Elerium Core"

"I never thought that one man could build an alien fighter craft in one night" Johnson mused as he stared at his half-finished creation.

"Frankly neither did I" Pertwee replied. "Which is why I took other precautions"

"You what?" Johnson asked.

"I've arranged for a craft from one of the other bases to be doing endurance testing around here" Pertwee replied. "With any luck he'll be stopping here to refuel at just the time that the inspections due"

"You mean I've been building this one for nothing!" Johnson challenged.

"Of course not" Pertwee countered. "The others just a precaution"

"A precaution against what?" Johnson asked.

"In case you drop dead" Pertwee replied. "Now come on, the inspection party is due soon so get back to it"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Commander, inspection party is en-route" the watch officer announced.

"Oh lord, commence 'Gunnery Practice' immediately!" Price ordered from his position across the Situation Room.

"Oh, bad luck sir. It seems they're already inside the cordon" Phillips observed on the main viewscreen.

"Indeed, they are" Price acknowledged with a dejected sigh. "It seems we will have to face them today after all"

"It's a shame really after all the work we did to make an impression with Commander Shaw and suddenly they decide to bring in this new chap" Phillips pondered.

"Perhaps it's BECAUSE we made such an impression on Commander Shaw the Council concluded it was time for a bit of a reshuffle" Price concluded. "Still, it doesn't preclude us from making another impression on his replacement. I seem to recall that Commander Shaw took some persuading in the beginning"

"I don't know sir, after we shot at him a few times he soon got the message" Phillips replied.

"Indeed" Price agreed. "Well, we'd better get down there and meet them before anything else-"

A loud rumble permeated through the underground cavern accompanied by flecks of displaced dust descending from the rafters above.

"Sir" Phillips spoke. "Did you remember to call off that 'Gunnery Practice'?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Again, I do apologise Commander Povey" Price assured them as he led the inspection party through the corridor. "My watch officer mistook you for a Major General and I of course ordered the customary salute"

"Lieutenant, let me make this perfectly clear" Povey replied. "Whether you call it 'Gunnery Practice', a 21-gun salute, or popping a few off to celebrate Chinese New Year know that I will not be shot at again!"

"Duly noted, sir" Price replied. "Shall we begin the tour"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Phillips returned to the XCOM Command Office, his search for the missing Firestorm so far proving fruitless.

"Where have you been?" Heather, one of the XCOM administrators, asked.

"Still on the prowl for that missing Firestorm" Phillips answered.

"Any luck?" Heather asked.

"Not so much as a strange flicker in the night sky" Phillips said. "It makes you wonder where it could possibly be hiding. Regardless, someone is going to get it when it does turn up. The only people authorised to dispatch them are the Commander, Lieutenant Price and myself but-"

The realisation struck Phillips in an instant. "Heather, you remember when you first arrived here, and I took you on that sightseeing tour over the Alps. We landed at that lovely little Ski Chalet for drinks, how did we get back to the base?"

"Well we were driven by-" the realisation quickly dawned on Heather. "Oh"

"Yes" Phillips affirmed. "I forgot it. The ships still up a mountain. It must be parched, I mean, parked. I best get up there before-"

Phillips was quick in his dash towards the office door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Leading the inspection party around the base Price directed them past the engineering workshops, laboratories and maintenance facilities. It was almost inevitable that the inspection would reach the hanger eventually.

"And here we have the hanger" Price announced as they stepped into the cavernous bay, the carved walls rising high above their heads to accommodate the ships and their necessary support equipment. "And over here is our Skyranger and Firestorm fleet, all present and correct"

"Indeed" Shaw stepped forward to inspect them. "Although I have to say that one looks a bit shabby"

"Shabby, sir?" Price asked.

"Yes, the one at the end with all the bits hanging off it" Shaw pointed towards the offending Firestorm.

"Well, I can explain sir" Pertwee interjected. "That particular one is currently undergoing repairs. You see-"

The hanger door above opened with a mechanical whirr. The light beaming down on them overcast by the silhouette of a Firestorm as it descended to land in the hanger. The hatch opened as the pilot stepped out, snapping a salute to the assembled group.

"Flight Lieutenant Mathews reporting" the pilot said. "All present and correct"

"Why is there suddenly an extra one?" Shaw asked.

"A demonstration for the Commanders last inspection of proper Firestorm docking technique" Price was quick to clarify.

"Oh" Shaw seemed satisfied with the explanation. "Well I suppose-"

The hanger bay doors opened once again. Another Firestorm descended into the hanger. Phillips stepped out of the Firestorm and saluted. "Sub-lieutenant Phillips reporting, all present and-" Phillips looked around and noticed the number of craft. "Why are there two extra Firestorms?"

"What the blazes is going on here?" Povey demanded.

"He's right" Shaw interjected. "There's definitely something wrong here"

"What might that be sir?" Price asked.

"The one in pieces, and the other two which just descended on us all have the same callsign painted on them" Shaw pointed out. "That will need to be rectified"

"You're quite right, sir" Price agreed. "How very astute of you"

 _XCOM Rule 727: XCOM personnel are no longer permitted to conduct 'Gunnery Practice' at inspecting officers._

 _XCOM Rule 728: XCOM personnel are no longer permitted to undertake extended parodies of classic radio programmes._


	24. Operation Cluedon't

Chapter 24: Operation Cluedon't

"Dr Shen, in the barracks, with a wrench" Corporal James Wright said.

The hushed shuffling of cards filled the room. One was passed across the table, Wright considered it before handing it back.

"Dr Vahlen, in the laboratory, with the dissection table" Engineer Martin Phillips said.

More shuffling of cards, another passed across the table. Phillips checked it before handing it back.

"Central Officer Bradford" Senior Researcher Adams said. "In the armoury, with a sweater"

"How exactly do you expect him to manage that with just a sweater?" Phillips questioned.

"It is a fine sweater" Wright interjected. Cards continued to be passed between them.

"Corporal Stevens, in the lavatory, with last night's curry surprise" Flight Officer Kathy McKnight spoke. More hushed shuffling, but no one had anything with which to counter. Thus, the game went to McKnight.

"So, what do you think?" Wright asked the assembled group.

"It's good, I'll give you that" Adams said. "But I suspect that you're goanna run afoul of the legal department if you were to try and release it for sale. The words 'Copyright infringement' would be the first to come to mind"

"Still, it's better than some of the other ideas you've had" Phillips added.

"Like what?" Wright challenged.

"Novelty bobbleheads of the Commander" Phillips offered.

"Who wouldn't want to celebrate humanities greatest hero in bobblehead form?" Wright asked.

"But no one knows what they look like" McKnight objected.

"They will after the war is finished" Adams interjected. "With the amount of press we're going to have you're going to see the Commanders face on every TV screen on every continent"

"Personally, I'd stick to the Cluedo knock off" Phillips replied. "There's more potential for expansion packs and different variants"

"What about Monopoly based on the layout of the XCOM facilities?" Wright proposed.

"I'm pretty sure the layout of the base is supposed to be a classified secret" McKnight countered.

"Risk then" Wright offered. "Play as the aliens or the humans and slowly take over the world"

"But its so simple to beat, once you take Madagascar that' it" Phillips replied.

"Besides, we've just come out of a war with these aliens which very nearly destroyed all of humanity" McKnight explained. "Who is going to want to play a game where the aliens win?"

Wright replied. "You've not met many gamers before have you"

 _XCOM Rule 903: While XCOM command can see the potential for XCOM branded merchandise (Stationary, mugs, casual clothing) an XCOM themed board game based around identifying a traitor inside the project is considered to be sending the wrong message._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Other ideas considered:

Lieutenant Brutus with the combat knife in the Situation Room

Colonel Arnold at the West Guard station with the British Flag

Sergeant Fawkes in the underground caverns with the plasma grenades

Technician Nedry in the Alien Containment Facility with the off button


	25. Operation Zombies Ahoy!

Chapter 25: Operation Zombies Ahoy!

"Slew outboard!" the deck engineer called out to be heard over the whirr of the ships engine and the roar of the ocean below. "Down on one!"

At his command, the inflatable descended into the murky depths beneath. The moonless night ensured it was so dark that if it wasn't for the churning of the waves you wouldn't even be able to make out where the sea began. Not that this was much comfort to those on the deck above, and even less for those in the inflatable.

The strike team was deploying from a Type 23 Frigate _HMS Sutherland_ on loan from the Royal Navy as they made their insertion into the North Sea. The Council had lost contact with an Arctic Cruise Liner _Arcadia_ heading for Norway and carrying a Council VIP on board approaching 36 hours ago.

After combined search and rescue efforts by the British and Norwegian navies the cruise liner was found drifting in the middle of the sea, a storm hard upon her. Unable to discount the possibility of alien intervention, the Council had called for the intervention of XCOM.

Their objective was to search the ship, find out what happened on board, secure the VIP and exfiltrate to the HMS _Sutherland_. The Frigate would remain on station to provide 'Fire Support', military code for blow everything out of the water should the operation not go to plan.

The inflatable made best speed as it fought against the rough waves and the strong currents to pull alongside the stricken ship, consumed by the shadow of the beast before them.

"Grapples on" the squad leader called out.

In quick succession, the team fired their wrist mounted grappling lines. Catching them on whatever solid structure they could they yanked the lines to test the weight before engaging the retract. The self-propelled grapples brought them to the deck in less than a few seconds, clambering over the railing the team brought their weapons to bear and began searching for targets. They found the storm washed deck abandoned but that didn't mean much, there was still a lot of the ship left to search.

Moving along the deck, their weapons raised in preparation of an ambush, they found no signs of distress and the ships lifeboats still in their containers. Assembling in front of the ships door the leading soldier opened it as the other moved to cover the entryway with practiced efficiency. Finding nothing out of place the team moved inside, finally out of the rain and in enough silence to finally hear themselves think.

Their first objective was to reach the bridge, locate the passenger manifest and uncover any other records which might give them a clue as to where their target may be.

The interior layout of the cruise liner was like a maze, an endless arrangement of corridors and passages which forced them to rely on memory and directions marked on the walls. Eventually they found their way to the ships bridge.

The team found the bridge empty. The bridge consoles remained functional, each glowing with a dim light as they idled. Captain Richard Taylor removed his helmet and smoothed out his close-cropped brown hair as he took stock of their first objective. The team immediately dispersed to their preassigned tasks.

Lieutenant Rebecca Marsh, team sniper, secured her rifle at her back and set about searching the lockers and other storage areas.

Sergeant Amanda York and Sergeant Mary Ryan, support, focussed on accessing the ships computers in search of information.

At the same time Lieutenant Michael Davies, assault, and Sergeant Feng Chiu, heavy, kept their weapons ready as they patrolled the bridge.

Davies came around the captain's seat in the centre of the ships bridge. "I think I've found the captains log"

"Does it tell you anything about what happened to the ship?" Taylor asked.

"Only why they are going to have to reupholster the seat" Davies replied.

"Sir, you better come and see this" Ryan interrupted.

Taylor approached the console where Ryan was working.

"I found our VIP" Ryan pointed to one of the names rolling past on the ships digital manifest. "Room 602 on deck 5. But that's not all" Ryan continued typing away, bringing up another file alongside it. "It's an engineering report, timestamped 37 hours ago. Apparently, they experienced engine trouble when the propeller struck something in the water"

Davies circled around the main bridge console. Peering out the bridge window he could look down onto the main deck, laid out with a large pool and sun area. Through the beating storm he could swear he could see something in the middle of the pool, something with a glowing orange tint about it.

"The ship was brought to an emergency stop while the Captain sent an engineering team down to investigate" Ryan continued. "They tried to hail search and rescue but couldn't reach them because of the storm. It looks as though-"

A noise emanated from across the bridge. Everyone turned together, their respective weapons raised.

"Don't shoot!" a man's voice called out. A young man in steward's uniform pulled himself to his feet from behind the console, his hands raised above his head.

"Who are you?" Taylor ordered.

"My names Roger" the man replied, keeping his hands up. "I work in the cabin"

"What happened here?" Taylor ordered again.

"There's no time for that" Roger replied panickily, straining himself to keep his hands up even as the rest of his body wanted nothing more than to dash for the nearest exit. "We need to get out of here before they find-"

A shattering of glass accompanied a spray of blood. Taylor, caught in the forefront of the blast, shielded himself with the broadside of his shotgun. When he peered over Roger was already dead, impaled through the chest on the flat bill of a swordfish. Roger fell to the deck in a flurry of blood.

A flash of lightning scorched the skyline, the black silhouettes of malformed humans appeared on the sundeck beneath. Slowly, they started shuffling their way towards the bridge.

"We need to get-" Taylors attempts to rally his team were cut short as more of the undead emerged at the remaining bridge windows, banging at the glass to claw their way in.

The strike team beat a hasty retreat from the bridge, Taylor and Davies firing their shotguns to stem the growing mass of undead. Taylor was the last through the door, Chiu and Marsh securing the door behind him for what little good it would do to keep them at bay.

The team charged back down the corridor, ignoring the sound of splintering wood and creaking metal behind them. Their charge soon brought them to a junction. The team turned down the corner, thankful to find it clear.

It did not stay that way for long however as the howls of the undead only continued to echo through the otherwise empty hallway. A looming precursor to their inevitable appearance. The team reached the stairway leading deeper into the ship. Following it down they were once more faced with corridors in both directions lined with endless numbers of cabin doors.

"We need to head down the corridor" Ryan rechecked the directions on the wall, pointing down the corridor to the right. "We're looking for cabin-"

The echoing howls grew louder. They were upon them now. As if summoned by some unknown signal groups of the undead began approaching from all sides: further down the hallway behind them, rising from the stairway below and shuffling down the stairway from the bridge above.

The team retreated from the approaching horde, firing their weapons into the first of the group only for more to soon take the place of their fallen. Further down the passageway they could see the structure of a bulkhead security door obstructing their path.

"Get that door open!" Taylor ordered.

Taylor and Davies turned back to face the advancing horde, the confined space limiting the group to standing two abreast. At the same time the others searched frantically for the mechanism which would unlock the door. Spying a panel in the wall Ryan wrenched the panel away, revealing a computer terminal concealed beneath.

Ryan quickly set about accessing the computer while the rest of the team continued firing. Time ticked by, no one knew how long. Weapons were emptied, requiring their operators to reload even as the mass of zombies drew ever closer.

"What's taking so long?" Taylor called out.

"The computers security is using military-grade code" Ryan replied.

"This is a civilian vessel" York protested. "It shouldn't have that kind of security"

Another shotgun blast rang out. Davies stepped back to reload, Marsh was forced to seal the breach. Marsh fired her rifle, the first zombie dropped. Marsh readied her rifle and fired again, another zombie dropped. It wasn't enough though and even more moved to take their place.

"I've got it!" Ryan called out.

The bulkhead door opened behind them with a metallic whirr. The team began to move back in an orderly fashion, firing as they moved. Marsh fired her last shot, reaching down to retrieve a fresh magazine from her belt.

A dishevelled hand snatched the barrel of her gun, a sharp yank pulling her off her step. Another pair of hands lunged forward, grasping wildly at her outstretched arm. This was all that was necessary to overtake her. Marsh suddenly found herself drawn into a flailing mass of undead.

"Marsh!" Davies cried out after her. Reaching out to grasp her his outstretched fingers met her hand, grasping tightly as he desperately tried to pull her back. Chiu grabbed hold of Davies rig as he fought to pull them both back. Taylor continued to fire into the thrashing mass of undead, forced to hold back his shots to avoid hitting his teammates.

The overwhelming pull of the undead proved too great. Davies grip slipped, falling back on top of Chiu behind him. Taylor struck his hand against the door control. The bulkhead door slammed shut with a harsh strike of metal against metal. Muffled screams and howls continued to emerge from the other side of the door. Soon, even these fell into silence.

A moment of stillness overtook them after the chaos which had preceded it. But they could not allow themselves to dwell on all that just transpired, they still had an objective to complete.

Taylor forced himself to his feet. "Come on" Taylor rallied his remaining people. "We need to keep moving"

The team assembled without complaint. Reloading their weapons as necessary they began making an ordered advance down the corridor. Taylor counted down the room numbers as they passed 542… 578… 596.

The team assembled outside the stateroom marked 602. They didn't know what was inside, all they knew was they would need to take it slow if they were going to avoid anymore-

Gunfire tore through the thin wooden door, splinters flying in all direction and forcing the team to duck for cover to protect themselves. Any thoughts of doing this subtly were dashed, they needed to get in there quick. "Aggressive entry, now!"

Chiu moved back into his position beside the door. He retrieved a flashbang grenade from his belt. Pulling the pin, he opened the door, threw it inside and pulled it shut again. Seconds passed. An ear-splitting bang emerged on the other side.

Davies charged the door first. He saw the silhouette of a man standing in front of him. Davies tackled him to the ground. Chiu followed in close behind, grabbing for the glint of metal in the man's hand he soon wrestled the weapon out of his grasp. The man struggled under the combined weight of both men. Davies felt a sharp stabbing pain in his lightly covered wrist. Chiu felt a sharp kick in the centre of his groin. Both fought through their pain and worked to subdue their quarry.

"Get the hell off me!" the man protested.

Taylor and the rest of the team followed in swiftly, sweeping the rest of the suite for any further threats. The room was declared clear.

"What's your name?" Taylor demanded of the still thrashing man.

"Adrian Lockwood" he replied.

Taylor stepped forward, shifting to get a clear look at the man's face. "Confirmed, he's our guy"

Davies and Chiu released their holds at their Captains orders, helping Lockwood back onto his feet. He was a large man in smart jacket and trousers with a thick American accent. His salt and pepper hair was cut short, suggesting at least some time spent in the military. The man wore a constant expression of barely concealed anger, although that may have to do with the grenade.

"You're the rescue party?" Lockwood gave it more as a statement than as a question.

Taylor stepped forwards. "Captain Taylor, XCOM Strike One-"

"I know who you are" Lockwood interrupted, glancing across the rest of the team with a look of unabridged disgust. "Christ, is this all they think I'm worth? Bunch of Woks, Spiks, Krauts, Frenchies…" his eyes pass over Davies. "Where the hell are you from?"

"Melbourne" Davies replied, still massaging his wrist which bore the teeth marks of Lockwood's attempt at resistance.

"Finally took your grandfathers picture off the street corners, did they?" Lockwood turned his attention back to Taylor. "About time you got here. I already had to fend off my own security without you"

"Your security?" Taylor asked.

"Anders got bitten on the way here" Lockwood explained. "Idiot didn't tell anyone until he'd already started to turn. I had to rip out his skull and beat him to death with it"

The team glanced across at the grisly remains of a man laid out on the floor of the cabin.

"Knew him Horatio indeed" Chiu mused.

Lockwood once more passed his gaze across the rest of the assembled group. "Weren't there supposed to be six of you?"

"Marsh didn't make it" Taylor admitted.

"Oh, well done" Lockwood gave out a slow clap. "Gold star for you, dipshits"

"Listen, stow the attitude" Davies interjected. "We're here to-"

"No, you listen!" Lockwood snarled back, pointing an accusing finger at Davies. "Do you even know what you've just walked yourself into? This is Chryssalid day-care and right now we're the juice and cookies" Lockwood took a moment to smarten the collar of his jacket. "Now, assuming that you're the best option I have for getting out of here please kindly return my pistol and we'll get going" 

"Apologises, but XCOM regulations do not permit civilians to carry firearms" Taylor explained.

"And I'm telling you I'm not leaving this room without something to protect myself" Lockwood stood toe to toe with Taylor, almost matching the younger man size for size. "Now you can either stand there waving your limp dick around or you can grow some balls and get us out before we all end up dead"

The pair devolved into a staring contest. Even as the sounds of the undead inevitably closing in around them grew their gazes refused to falter from eachother.

"Sergeant York" Taylor spoke first. "Retrieve Mr Lockwood's sidearm"

York did as ordered, reaching down to retrieve the discarded pistol before handing it to her Captain. Taylor wordlessly passed it over to Lockwood. Lockwood checked his weapon. "Glad you could see reason"

The immediate issue resolved, Taylor and the rest of the team prepared to leave the stateroom. Davies took point, scanning his shotgun in front as he stepped out. The corridor outside remained mercifully quiet. With the way they came already sealed their only route out was to head deeper into the ship and take an alternate path up to the deck to evacuate.

The team moved in professional silence, only the rattling of equipment and weapons accompanying them as they moved. They found the end of the corridor secured by yet another military grade terminal. Ryan quickly moved to begin untangling this one.

With the reprieve it offered, Chiu felt he had to ask. "Tell me, what's someone like you doing on a cruise like this which makes you so valuable to the Council?"

Lockwood glanced up with a look of complete disinterest. "Its questions like that which tend to get people shot for learning things they shouldn't" a tense moment hung between them. "My objective is to head towards the Arctic Circle to investigate possible sites for disposal"

"Disposal of what?" Chiu persisted.

"Ever hear of Cadmium?" Lockwood asked, shifting to lean idly against the cabin wall. "How about Hexavalent Chromates"

"They're used in heavy industry for corrosion protection of metals" York interjected. "But I thought they were restricted in the EU under REACh"

"Only for those who can't get the waivers" Lockwood countered. "But cost of proper disposal has only been going up in recent years. This had led some to invest in, 'alternative solutions'"

"Let me guess" York said. "You provide these 'alternative solutions'"

"With all the disruption going on with this alien invasion no one's really concerned with these sorts of things at the moment" Lockwood replied. "We have to take every opportunity we can"

"Better not let the Council know what you're really up to" Chiu said.

Lockwood could not hold back his laugh. "Who do you think hired me in the first place? Some of your Council members are my best customers. Besides, even if anyone finds out we'll just blame it on the aliens or whatever cover story the Council comes up with this time"

"Remind me why we're protecting this guy again?" Ryan asked.

"Alright, stow it" Taylor ordered. "We've got a job to do"

"Yes sir" Ryan added a final flourish of her fingers across the computer terminal. An electronic chime announced her success. The bulkhead door released.

The sight beyond the door was like a scene from a classical interpretation of hell. The corridor ahead was a mass of writhing, howling bodies. The strike team fired their weapons into the group. The first of the zombies dropped away to reveal more behind them. Beyond the mass of zombies lay the stairs which led up to the top deck.

"Slow advance" Taylor ordered. "We're moving towards the stairs and-"

Lockwood pushed his way past the strike team, rushing forward towards the group of zombies in front of him. Taylor and the others were thrown, unable to react before it was too late. Lockwood passed the group of the undead, utilising the momentary gap to reach the foot of the stairs and begin ascending them two at a time. The breach that he had used to escape was swiftly closed.

Taylor cursed beneath his breath. "Everyone, get after him!"

Taylor and Davies move forwards to catch up with him, each of the strike team firing into the zombie horde as they slowly moved towards the stairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs Chiu and York held their place while Taylor and Davies ascended the stairs in search of the VIP. Fighting with their backs to the stairs made the situation that much more difficult, inhibiting their movement and slowing their retreat as they attempted to keep the ever-growing zombie group at bay.

Bringing up the rear of the group, Chiu continued to fire his machine gun into the enemy. His fire suddenly stopped. Amongst the seething mass of people, he saw a mass of flash armour. Marsh, her cream skin now streaked with lines of freshly dried blood, her deep blue eyes turned glassy white.

"Rebecca?" Chiu asked.

Marsh raised her head to meet his gaze. For a fleeting moment the world around came to a stop.

Marsh lunged forward with an inhuman howl, throwing her weight against Chiu as her teeth sank into his lightly armoured forearm. Chiu wrestled to fight her off him, despite her smaller stature the woman proving a formidable opponent.

The sound of a single shot rang out, Marsh's body fell limp and heavy in his arms. Chiu looked back over his shoulder, Lockwood standing at the top of the stairs with the discharged pistol held in his hand. "You're welcome!" Lockwood called out over the howls of the ravenous zombies. Turning away he allowed himself to be escorted up the stairs by Davies ironclad grip on his arm.

"Come on" York called down to Chiu, utilising her superior position to fire down on the zombies above Chiu's head. "I've got you covered"

Chiu looked down to see the deep red stains weeping through his cloth underlining to stain his armour. It would only be a matter of time. "You go!" Chiu called back. Raising his machine gun, he fired indiscriminately into the group, clearing the first line in front of him. He knew there was only one way out of this.

"Go, get out of here!" Chiu shouted.

York hesitated to move back. It was only when York saw Chiu withdraw the grenade from his belt that she knew that he was serious. York turned away and charged up the stairs to re-join the rest of the strike team. An explosion erupted on their heels, fire and smoke rising from the lower decks. Despite all this there was no guarantee that they would stay contained for long.

The remainder of the strike team emerged out onto the rain lashed deck. The howls of the undead were close on their heels. There was no time to use the grapples. Calling upon the depths of their training the team leapt over the edge of the railing into the dark abyss beneath them.

The strike team struck the surface of the water, thrashing to pull themselves back to the surface in the rough water. Davies was the first to pull himself up into the waiting boat, the choppiness of the sea only adding to the difficulty. The rest of the team swiftly piled in after him, drawing Lockwood in after them.

York took the helm, igniting the engine as she turned them back towards the HMS Sutherland.

"Sutherland, we confirm acquisition of the VIP" Taylor spoke through the radio. "Arcadia has fallen. Repeat, Arcadia is an alien biohazard"

"Acknowledged Strike-One" the radio operator responded. "Quarantine teams are being prepped"

The inflatable pulled alongside the ship. The deck crew was already on hand to assist the team back onboard the ship. The team slumped unceremoniously to the deck. Taylor was the first to pull himself to his feet. "Checkmate!" Taylor called out.

Lockwood was the second to pull himself to his feet beside Taylor. "Check-"

Lockwood's words were cut short as Taylor lashed out in an instant to strike the larger man straight across the side of his face. Lockwood stumbled back with the shock of the impact, his hand rising to nurse his swiftly bruising jaw.

"Yeah" Lockwood mused. "I kind of deserved that one"

"Checkmate!" emerged over the ships broadcast system.

" _Strike-one!_ " a commanding voice rose above the deck. Looking up the strike team saw Central Officer Bradford staring down from his position grasping the railing on the upper deck.

"Overall you finished with two soldiers dead and a sub-par time" Bradford announced. "A third of operatives lost per mission is not a sustainable outcome so we're doing the exercise again, and better this time"

The squad replied with a modest grumble as they moved off to prepare for the next round of the training exercise.

Bradford returned himself to the ships bridge, securing the ships door behind him as he sealed off the relentless downpour outside. He found Dr Vahlen right where he had left her, scouring over the recorded footage from the days training exercise.

"I continue to question the operational value in these exercises" Dr Vahlen turned away from her computer screen to face Bradford. "Can you please explain precisely how this will help us in combatting the aliens?"

"Commanders orders" Bradford replied by way of explanation. "Although I am assured it has nothing to do with the cult zombie classic movie marathon that was playing in the entertainment suite last week"

 _XCOM Rule 297: After the recent operation in Newfoundland, at the Commanders insistence, all Strike Team members are to familiarise themselves with the following features for training purposes: Zombies Ahoy!, Zombies on the High Seas, Cruising for the Undead and Deadliest Catch. These shall serve as preparation should the aliens become amphibious or Chryssalids evolve gills._


	26. Operation The Less You Know

Chapter 26: Operation The Less You Know

ADVENT Administrator Ivan Fedorovich stepped off the idling dropship. He hadn't slept a wink on his way here from the settlement. Clearly ADVENT transports were not built with passenger comfort in mind.

Arriving in this nowhere backwater in the middle of a desert wasteland in the former Mexico it became wholly apparent why the administration had chosen this site for the facility. In addition to having no one around to overlook their work the land was almost certainly cheap, if the administration even paid for such things nowadays.

One would think that working an office job for the administration which spanned the entire Earth would be ideal. Turns out it was a massive pain. Case in point, dealing with the fallout of attacks by resistance cells. These groups, while previously scattered and unorganised, had suddenly become bolder and more co-ordinated. It was no coincidence that rumours and reports across the globe of scheduled maintenance, facility upgrades and organisation restructures were an almost daily occurrence.

That was why he had been sent here, to piece together anything he could and recover any actionable intel from the smoking ruin of a former ADVENT facility. His first job was to lead the search for any materials worth saving and any evidence worth analysing. All of that was to be catalogued and sent back to the settlement. Everything else was immediately routed to the nearest disposal site.

He'd read the briefing. What little security camera footage that had been retrieved showed a unit of about six people tearing through the facility before evacuating by air. Evidence suggested they used an explosive charge to destroy the remainder of the facility, the same method of operation which had been appearing more and more frequently across the world in recent months.

The truth was that the retrieval operation felt like a worthless enterprise in of itself. It seemed the sole objective was to create paperwork which would inevitably end up in someone's shredder. Looking at the wreck of the facility Ivan had to wonder what it must be like for those who worked in these facilities who were away during the attack. It must be unsettling to arrive to find your workplace no longer existed. For the time though he was content to leave their fate in the hands of the other administrators.

Ivan reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a cigarette. Even if ADVENT medicine hadn't made cancer and respiratory disease a distant memory he probably would still smoke, if only to give him something to focus on. This provided a ready distraction from staring at the ADVENT guards who were his constant shadow whenever he was working away from the office.

He was never sure if it was the same soldiers each time. They never spoke except to their direct commander, preventing him from ever striking up a conversation to find out. Ivan tapped the end of the cigarette to ignite it, taking a deep drag as he surveyed the task in front of him. In the history of his job he'd never met anyone who had ever uncovered anything of significant value. Judging by the condition of the remains it seemed today would not be any different.

He began as he usually did, a slow walk around the perimeter of the facility, navigating the dust caked land strewn with debris. There was always a risk of unexploded ordnance or deliberate traps left in the wake of an attack. It always paid to be cautious.

In amongst the rubble was something out of place, something which lacked the scarring and scorch marks which marred the rest of the debris. The item was a propaganda poster left behind by the perpetrators, XCOM. The poster was strewn with the faces of those matching the recovered security footage, imploring humanity to rise up against the aliens. Those individuals were already well known to ADVENT, their faces plastered across criminal posters in every city centre in the world.

An ADVENT trooper called out, rousing Fedorovich from his thoughts. Looking over Fedorovich could see the ADVENT troopers motioning towards a pile of rubble on the far side of the facility. The debris began to shift, two individuals rising out from amongst the rubble hefting heavy satchels. Their clothes were well worn, and their faces concealed behind cloth masks.

One of the scavengers called out to the other to run. The leading trooper yelled in his alien tongue. The scavengers made a break to run. The troopers didn't give a second warning, raising their weapons they began to fire indiscriminately towards the fleeing humans.

The scavengers drew pistols from their belts, firing wildly back at the troopers as they tried to make good their escape. Fedorovich threw himself to the ground, grasping his hands over his head as gunfire exchanged with laser blasts. Fedorovich held himself there for what felt like an eternity, the sounds of battle growing ever more distant. The battling finally ceased.

Fedorovich dared to look up. He could make out the silhouette of the troopers in the distance, wrestling one of the scavengers to the ground. He couldn't see the other one anymore. Fedorovich pulled himself back to his feet, brushing himself off to remove the thick layer of dust and dirt. Fedorovich despaired at the thought of the expense paperwork for the dry-cleaning.

The ADVENT troopers secured their hold over the struggling attacker, pulling the man to his feet despite his wavering protests. The troopers dragged the man across the ground back towards the waiting transport. Fedorovich was certain the fate which awaited this man would not be fortunate.

Deciding to indulge his moment of curiosity Fedorovich stepped forward in search of the man's missing accomplice. He found the man laid out on the ground, the fresh scorch marks across his back the mark of the ADVENT troopers' rifle.

Finding the mans satchel laid out beside him Fedorovich crouched down and began searching through the contents of the bag. In amongst the scraps of alien metal and half spent power cores was an ADVENT datapad.

Seemingly unsecured the users last access continued to scroll past on the screen. The data, while completely incomprehensible to him, seemed to be related to some kind of research into genetics. Accompanying the exhaustive list repeated the same phrase in alien script, AVATAR Project.

Fedorovich had heard rumours of such a project but had never met anyone who knew first hand of its existence. With the information he held in his hand it was fast becoming abundantly clear why that was the case.

Desperate to keep the panic from his features he allowed the datapad to slip from his fingers, landing on the dirt beside the corpse. With one sharp press of his shoe the delicate electronics shattered beneath his weight.

Fedorovich calmly smoothed out the lingering creases of his uniform. He reached into his jacket pocket for a fresh cigarette. Igniting it he took a slow drag as he resumed his search through the remains of the facility. He could only hope that the rest of his search proved just as uneventful.

 _ADVENT Rule 9465: The ADVENT administration confirm that no current or previous project has been undertaken with the codename 'AVATAR'. All ADVENT personnel are required to immediately report any references to such a project to the ADVENT Security Bureau._


	27. Operation Percussive Maintenance

Chapter 27: Operation Percussive Maintenance

XCOM-MT-76Q1

XCOM Maintenance Department Record Card

Author: Technician Simon Baldwin

Request Raised by: Dr Quinten Graham

Summary of Issue: Foul smell reported in Sector 5 laboratory. Alien Containment protocol activated (Ref. XCOM-PRO-5546 - Alien Containment Protocol).

Status of Issue: Closed

Closure Statement: 'Alien containment issue' traced to Sector 5 Men's toilets and previous night's curry surprise.

END OF RECORD CARD

XCOM-MT-49H1

XCOM Maintenance Department Record Card

Author: Technician Sarah Albright

Request Raised by: Ian McCormack

Summary of Issue: Dead animal (Rat) found in Access Corridor J5-9.

Status of Issue: Closed

Closure Statement: After Satanic ritual proved unsuccessful in resurrecting the deceased it will instead be given a proper burial place via the waste disposal unit.

END OF RECORD CARD

XCOM-MT-45U0

XCOM Maintenance Department Record Card

Author: Technician Edward Simmons

Request Raised by: Senior Researcher James Lee

Summary of Issue: Microbial Incubator in Laboratory L-17 will not turn on.

Status of Issue: Closed

Closure Statement: Microbial Incubator won't turn on when unplugged.

END OF RECORD CARD

XCOM-MT-38Q1

XCOM Maintenance Department Record Card

Author: Flight Technician Ian Beckett

Request Raised by: Flight Lieutenant Adam Lark

Summary of Issue: Evidence of fuel leak from DEMON-03 identified during post-flight checks.

Status of Issue: Closed

Closure Statement: Evidence of fuel leak removed.

END OF RECORD CARD

XCOM-MT-45U0

XCOM Maintenance Department Record Card

Author: Technician Sarah Heath

Request Raised by: Engineer Sasha Petrov

Summary of Issue: Internal circuit protection device activated in manufacturing suite in Workshop M-11.

Status of Issue: Closed

Closure Statement: Fuse replaced.

END OF RECORD CARD

XCOM-MT-20N7

XCOM Maintenance Department Record Card

Author: Technician Edward Simmons

Request Raised by: Administrator Anton Fedorovich

Summary of Issue: Rattling noise inside the vents above Administration offices. (Sounds like someone throwing dice).

Status of Issue: Closed

Closure Statement: Strike team ordered to stop playing Craps in the vents.

END OF RECORD CARD

XCOM-MT-20N7

XCOM Maintenance Department Record Card

Author: Technician Raymond Hall

Request Raised by: Sergeant Fredrick North

Summary of Issue: Coffee dispenser in the Strike Team barracks has stopped functioning. Prolonged failure risks a detrimental effect to strike team morale.

Status of Issue: Closed

Closure Statement: Request clearly entered in error as this dispenser has never been functional

Addendum: Risk of detrimental effect on strike team morale has been deemed 'LOW' as there is no morale in the strike team.

END OF RECORD CARD

 _XCOM Rule 676: Maintenance requests are an integral part of ensuring that XCOM operations continue to operate smoothly. It is required that they be taken seriously._


	28. Operation Simian Conglomerate

Chapter 28: Operation Simian Conglomerate

Researcher James Stevens held the pipette in his hand, steadying the petri dish with the other. This was highly delicate work. Combining these two samples in the wrong quantities could unravel at least a day's preparation. It required a keen eye, a steady hand and unwavering concentra-

" _Have you seen this?_ "

Stevens forced his hand to steady, carefully laying the pipette aside before the sample was placed in another further danger. His concentration already shattered Stevens relented. Turning in his seat he found his colleague Researcher Adam Wright. Wright had his tablet held out for inspection.

Stevens accepted it and reviewed the email on the screen. "Is it really that time again already?"

"Time for what?" Research Assistant Adrianne Proud joined the commotion brewing in the corner of the laboratory.

"Panic room drills" Wright clarified. "Spending six hours sitting on our arses while the security team runs about playing soldier.

"So what?" Proud quired, having only joined XCOM in the last few weeks. "It doesn't seem that bad"

"It is if you get Eggy Davidson in your group" Wright replied.

"Can't you just say you've got important work to do?" Proud asked.

"It's mandatory for all staff" Stevens clarified. "And participation is monitored by ID card access"

"We've got to find a way out of this" Wright asserted.

"That we do" Stevens agreed.

Wright saw it. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Stevens asked innocently.

"That look" Wright pressed.

"This is my normal face. It's what I look like when I talk about things" Stevens replied. "On a completely unrelated matter I just so happen to have been chatting with a friend in the Infinite Monkey's Research Laboratory. Their intention was to determine if, given enough time and banana's, they truly could rewrite the works of Shakespeare. In the end the internet put that theory to bed and put those guys out of work"

"You're right that is unrelated" Proud interjected.

"Nevertheless, it would be a simple matter to have a few of them brought back" Stevens explained. "Dress them up in laboratory coats and no one would know. Then all we have to do is lend them our ID's and let them take our places for the drill"

"And what would we be doing?" Proud asked.

"We could hide out in the excavated tunnels under the base" Wrights eyes practically glimmered with the brilliance of it. "It's the perfect plan"

"So, you're saying that to avoid being placed in a confined space for an extended period of time your 'perfect plan' is to hide out in a confined space for an extended period of time?" Proud clarified.

"Well sure it sounds stupid when you say it like that" Stevens replied. "Trust me, nothing can go wrong"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wright and Proud stood idly waiting in the corridor outside the laboratory.

"He should be here by now" Wright shifted impatiently.

"What do you think could be taking him-" Proud was interrupted by the sound of Wrights communicator.

Wright answered his communicator. "Research department, Wright speaking… What sort of problem?"

" _Attention all XCOM personnel_ " an alert passed over the base address system. " _Operatives Stevens, Wright and Proud are currently on the rampage. Security Level 9 has been initiated. Security advise that they're dressed as monkeys and acting hysterically. If encountered, shoot on sight_ "

"Oh" Wright realised. "That sort of problem"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, what do we do now?" Proud asked her senior colleagues sat leaning against the far wall of the rough-cut tunnel beneath XCOM.

"Wait it out" Stevens replied. "I'm sure they'll have things under control and if we explain things calmly and concisely to the Commander I'm sure they'll see the funny side"

"Did either of you know before suggesting it that placing monkeys in confined spaces can cause them to become incredibly agitated and aggressive?" Proud asked.

"Well" Stevens replied. "At least we'll all know for next time"

 _XCOM Rule 545: Personnel are not permitted to transfer their official XCOM ID to a monkey._

 _545a: This rule has now been extended to include any animal, vegetable or mineral._


	29. Operation Wordplay

Chapter 29: Operation Wordplay

" _If I'd shot you when I wanted to, I'd be out by now_ " Corporal Steve Newmark said, adjusting the press of his sniper rifle into his shoulder as he kept the scope to his eye.

"I'll give you that one" Corporal Lydia Richardson replied, peering through her binoculars as she lay prone on the rooftop beside him. " _You're the reason our kids are so ugly_ "

"Very good" Newmark replied, easing his grip on his rifle as he allowed the feeling to return to his fingers. " _Does this shotgun barrel look clogged to you?_ "

" _I still miss you darling, but my aims getting better_ " Richardson countered.

" _Can you draw me a map, because I keep getting lost in your eyes_ " Newmark said.

"Nah, that wouldn't work" Richardson replied. "It's too sentimental"

"It depends on how you interpret it" Newmark objected. "Either it's because he finds her beautiful, making it sentimental. Or, he can't make sense of what she's hiding from him and it comes back around to being tragic again"

"I still say the other one was better" Richardson said.

"And I still disagree" Newmark responded.

"You can disagree all you want" Richardson replied. "But I still say it's better"

" _Sierra-5_ " Central Officer Bradford cut in over the radio. " _Target is moving west on Dunbar street, are you in position?_ "

"Central, Sierra-5" Richardson acknowledged. "Settle a bet. Which works better as a Country & Western song title ' _I've Got One Day to Live and You're Saying Not Tonight_ ' or ' _I Never Knew my Mother, she Left Before I was Born_ '"

" _Sierra-5_ " Bradford cut in, an additional hint of frustration to his voice. " _Confirm positive ID on the target package_ "

"Target- oh shit!" Richardson quickly brought the binoculars back up to scan the road beneath them. Richardson brought the binoculars into focus just in time to see the truck come barrelling down the road towards them.

"Eyes on target" Richardson announced. "Approaching at high speed, wind light and variable and no civilian presence"

" _Sierra-5, target is to be taken alive_ " Bradford instructed. " _Bring the vehicle to a controlled stop and secure-_ "

A shot rang out from Newmarks rifle. The bullet struck the trucks right front wheel, the tyre exploding in an upwash of disintegrating rubber. The truck veered across one side of the road, tearing along a line of parked cars before swerving back across to impact the wall of the building. The stop was almost instantaneous.

Looking down on the scene of destruction on the street below, strewn with debris and with car horns blaring, Richardson looked across at her partner and asked, "Do you think Centrals going to be mad at us?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

" _Ditcher, Quick and Hyde Divorce Lawyers_ " Corporal Simon May offered.

"A Detective Agency headed by a guy named Staker" Corporal Rhys Able replied as they continued their patrol past the Alien Containment labs. " _Need to track someone down? Ask for PI Staker_ "

"What about a logging company based on the edge of the Arctic Circle" May replied. " _Shiver Me Timbers_ "

A low alarm began to sound in the background of their conversation. The alarm always sounded for a few moments prior to the research staff starting their interrogation of a captured subject.

" _O'Brian, O'Brian & O'Brian, Attorneys at Law_" Able said. " _Your number one nepotism specialists_ "

" _Snippet & Sons Discount Vasectomy_" May replied. " _A family business since 1908_ "

The Alien containment alarm continued to sound further down the corridor.

" _Dewey, Cheetham, & Howe Lawyers_" Able offered. "Wait, shouldn't that alarm have stopped by now?"

"What do you mean?" May asked. "It always sounds when they're about to go to work"

"Yeah, but only for a few seconds" Able replied. "Otherwise that means-"

Looking down the corridor they could see a Sectoid moving into view. The stunted creature stopped in its tracks as it stared back at them, their eyes meeting for the briefest of moments. The creature scurried off into an adjoining corridor like a startled animal.

"Crap" May cursed as he and Able made hast after it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ok, a horror movie set in a 24-hour supermarket" Technician Fredrick Knight offered, leaning back in his seat as he stared half interested at the display in front of him. "The poster is a grisly scene on an automated checkout machine with the tagline ' _Unexpected Item in the Bagging Area_ '"

" _Stop, or my Gran will shoot!_ " Technician Suki Kururugi replied in return. "OAPs take over the neighbourhood watch armed with surplus police equipment after the local council trials a new law and order drive"

Kururugi idly scanned her cursor across the screen, the readout from the satellites little more than a never-ending constellation of lights on the display. Working in XCOM satellite surveillance used to be a high-pressure environment. But since the strike team had taken out the alien base the scope had remained blissfully quiet.

"A virus infects people into a mindless killing frenzy which causes them to laugh uncontrollably" Knight said. "Call it ' _Jest Infection_ '. The tagline, ' _It's no laughing matter_ '"

"A 3-hour feature ' _The History of Progressive Rock_ '" Kururugi mused. "Brought to you by the Geological Society"

"A film about a murderous flight simulator" Knight said. "A group of engineering students build a full-scale flight simulator from the wreck of a plane. Turns out the aircraft is inhabited by the vengeful spirit of the pilot who died in the crash who forces people to relive the same crash over and over again"

"Why do all your ideas involve people dying horribly?" Kururugi asked.

"Write what you know" Knight joked. "You know, there was this one guy on the strike team who went on a mission in a factory. He fell into a load of machinery and his whole body went through a hole the size of a dogs-"

The alien detection alarm sounded through the control room. Knight and Kururugi checked the display in front of them, the regular flash on the scope representing an unknown contact entering the upper atmosphere.

"Satellite Control to Operations" Knight accessed the base communication system. "We've detected a contact on the scope. Transmitting coordinates now"

"Roger Satellite control" the operator replied. "Operations to Flight Control. LAUNCH, LAUNCH, LAUNCH"

The thunderous roar tore through the base. A few tense moments of silence passed.

"DEMON-2 launch sequence complete" the interceptor pilot emerged onto the shared COM. "All systems green. Target lock, advancing to intercept speed"

"Roger DEMON-2" Kururugi acknowledged, observing as the interceptor emerged onto the satellites viewscreen. "I have you on scope, six seconds to intercept" Knight and Kururugi watched as the two contacts converged on eachother.

"DEMON-2, you should be seeing the target coming into view now" Knight relayed to the pilot.

"DEMON-2, Control I'm not seeing any alien contacts" the pilot announced. "Just an old weather balloon"

Kururugi looked across at Knight. "Did you remember to authenticate the contact before relaying it to Ops?"

Knight looked across at his colleague with a profound sense of realisation written across his face. This was going to take some explaining.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

" _I Thought this was Speed Dating_ " Flight Lieutenant Patrick Gunther said as he rechecked the flight display in front of him.

" _I am Smarticus_ " Air Traffic Controller Fernando Rodrigues replied.

It was always like this on these types of flights. Launch from the facility, ascend to the pre-determined altitude, set the autopilot and wait. Such were the realities of transferring one of the most advanced fighter aircraft humanity had ever created to another facility. The reality was the same for the XCOM Air Traffic Controller on the ground monitoring his progress.

" _University Challenged_ " Gunther said.

" _Our Drinking Team Has A Trivia Problem_ " Rodrigues replied.

" _Quizzy McQuizface_ " Gunter offered.

"What does that mean?" Rodrigues asked. "How do you get that for a Pub Quiz team name?"

"You haven't heard that one?" Gunther asked. "Well it's a play on this news story which came out a while ago about-"

" _Unidentified aircraft, this is the Columbian Airforce_ " a voice interjected over the radio. " _You have made an authorised entry into Columbian Airspace. Identify yourself_ "

"XCOM ATC, what's going on?" Gunther asked. "Did they not get the alert we were coming?"

"Mierda!" Rodrigues cursed. "I knew there was something I meant to do"

 _XCOM Rule 629: Personnel are not permitted to play word games while on duty._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

More Country and Western song titles:

I'm still Hungover from Drinking the Lake of Fire

Roasting Marshmallows on a Burning Ring of Fire

She Drove Down to the Scrapyard and Crushed All My Hope

My Wife Should be a Professional Basketball Player because she Slam Dunked My Heart


	30. Operation Tribute Act

Chapter 30: Operation Tribute Act

Central Officer Bradford took his seat next to Dr Vahlen in time to watch the next act performing in the first monthly XCOM Music Night. This had been one of the suggestions to raise staff morale in-between operations.

Bradford had arrived as Corporal Hammerstein and Corporal Rodgers were onstage doing a duet.

 _Whenever I feel afraid_

 _I hold my BZZ erect_

 _And whistle a happy tune_

 _So no one will suspect_

 _I'm aBZZ._

"What on earth are they singing?" Bradford leant across to whisper to Dr Vahlen.

"It's a variation on a well-known song with words deliberately censored" Dr Vahlen replied. "I believe the intention is for humorous effect"

 _The result of this deception_

 _Is very strange to tell_

 _For when I BZZ the people I BZZ_

 _I BZZ myself as well!_

"Thank you everyone!" Corporal Hammerstein announced. "Next up will be a rendition of ' _My Grandfathers CBZZk_ '"

"I suddenly remembered I have a lot of alien landing sites to survey" Bradford announced.

The Central Officers attempt at leaving was swiftly halted as Dr Vahlen grasped her hand around his arm. "Stay, at least for the next one" Vahlen said. "The lads from Xenobiology are performing a quartet"

Bradford and Vahlen watched as the next performers came onto the stage.

 _My grandfather's cBZZk was too large for the shelf_

 _So it stood ninety years on the floor_

 _It was taller by half than the old man himself_

 _Though it weighed not a pennyweight more_

Despite Dr Vahlens insistence Bradford made a quiet exit to resume his survey for alien targets. It seemed like a more palatable option than listening to the next song on the list, ' _Look at My Enormous BZZ'._

 _XCOM Rule 630: All songs performed at XCOM music night are to be pre-approved by at least two members of the Command staff._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The whole time I was writing this resisted the urge to turn this chapter into a panto piece. Because nowadays that kind of humour is rather dated and unfunny isn't it boys and girls? Oh, yes it is.

(This is all being recorded, you know. What a waste of perfectly good data storage)


End file.
